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CHILD  TOILERS 


O  F 


BOSTON  STREETS. 


BY 

EMMA  E.  BROWN. 

AUTHOR  OF  «'  FROM  NIGHT  TO  LIGHT.' 


BOSTON: 
D.  LOTHROP  AND  COMPANY, 

FRANKLIN   ST.,   CORNER  OP   HAWLEY. 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

O.    LOTHROP    Si    CO, 
1879. 


CHILD  TOILERS. 


CHRISTMAS  GREENS. 

IT  is  a  well-known  fact  that  in  all  of  our  large  cities 
a  great  number  of  children  are  employed  in  various 
street  occupations ;  but  I  think  few  realize  how  much 
actually  depends  upon  the  labors  of  these  little 
"  Child  Toilers."  In  the  papers  here  given,  all  the 
facts  stated,  and  all  the  illustrations,  are  drawn,  not 
from  imagination,  but  from  real  life. 

And,  as  appropriate  to  the  season,  we  give  first  in 
the  series  a  sketch  of  our  little  street  venders  in 

"CHRISTMAS  GREENS." 

Since  early  morning,  like  some  wee  dryad  of  the 
forest,   little   Anna    has    stood   there   in   her  bower 


12GC094 


8  Child  Toilers. 

of  green.  It  is  a  bitter  cold  day,  and  a  north  corner, 
down  in  Quincy  Market,  is  certainly  not  a  favorable 
place  for  tempering  our  bleak  Boston  east  winds  to  the 
"shorn  lamb;"  but  Anna  is  a  brave  little  girl,  and 
drawing  the  old  water-proof  over  her  head  she  man- 
ages by  vigorous  clappings  and  stampings  to  keep 
head,  hands,  and  feet  in  a  tolerable  state  of  comfort. 
Then  she  is  so  interested  in  the  arrangement  and  sale 
of  her  pretty  Christinas  greens  that  she  doesn't  stop 
to  think  much  about  herself  or  the  weather. 

All  around  her  little  stand,  by  the  great  stone 
pillars,  are  many  "rivals  in  trade; "for  since  the 
week  began,  hundreds  of  teams  have  come  in  from 
the  country  with  all  manner  of  "  green  things."  Close 
beside  her,  stand  some  fragrant  spruces  and  firs  that 
came  from  away  "  down  east,"  for  although  many  of 
the  suburban  towns,  especially  Randolph,  Needham, 
Stoughton,  West  Wareham,  Walpole,  Lincoln,  North 
Abington  and  Natick,  furnish  our  city  with  much  of 
the  so-called  "small "  trimmings,  it  is  chiefly  from  the 
grand  old  forests  of  Maine,  that  our  finest  Christmas 
trees,  and  the  "  large  "  trimmings  for  church  and  hall 
are  obtained.  I  am  told  that  one  season  three  thou- 
sand trees  were  shipped  from  Bangor  and  Portland 
to  a  single  firm  on  Broad  street,  and  many  "  Down 
East "  farmers  come,  year  after  year,  to  Quincy 


r 


LITTLE  ANNA. 


Christmas    Greens.  9 

Market  with  trees  they  have  felled  on  their  own 
woodlands. 

If  any  of  these  trees  become  injured  by  transporta- 
tion, they  are  generally  stripped,  and  the  twigs  woven 
into  festoons;  while  those  that  still  preserve  their 
native  symmetry,  are  sold,  according  to  size  and 
quality,  from  twenty-five  cents  to  two  and  three  dollars 
apiece.  As  no  rent  is  demanded  for  the  use  of  "  out- 
door" corners,  these  countrymen  can  sometimes 
clear  hundreds  of  dollars  during  the  holiday  season 
—  especially,  if  in  addition  to  their  trees,  they  bring, 
as  many  do,  a  large  assortment  of  wreaths,  crosses, 
anchors,  and  other  church  emblems  made  by  tasteful 
hands  at  home. 

Of  course  they  are  liable  to  have  these  smaller 
wares  stolen,  as  they  have  no  place  to  store  them 
over  night;  but  "forewarned"  they  generally  come 
"  forearmed,"  and  a  common  custom  among  them  is 
to  have  a  large  box  closely  fitted  to  their  vehicles 
where  all  the  choice  greens  can  be  securely  kept 
under  lock  and  key. 

Here  are  two  lads,  evidently  brothers,  who  have 
come  from  a  long  distance.  They  have  brought  only 
trees,  and  rough  boughs ;  so,  to  save  the  expense  of 
stabling  their  poor  old  horse  the  greens  are  all  taken 
out  of  the  hurdles  and  deposited  in  a  heterogeneous 


io  Child  Toilers. 

mass  upon  the  side-walk.  Then,  while  one  brother 
stays  to  arrange  and  look  after  their  "stock  in 
trade,"  the  other  goes  home  with  the  empty  sledge. 
It  is  a  little  curious  that  among  all  these  venders 
of  Christmas  greens,  you  will  seldom  find  an  Italian 
boy  or  girl ;  although,  in  other  street  occupations, 
these  dark-eyed  children  of  the  south  out-number 

—  even  in  Boston  —  the  German,  Irish  and  American 
born. 

Besides  those  who  sell  Christmas  greens  on  the 
corners  and  in  the  markets,  there  are  other  children 

—  mostly  Germans  —  in  our  different  mission-schools, 
especially   in   the   one   connected    with    Dr.    Ellis's 
church   on  Berkeley  street,   who  gather  evergreens 
and  berries,  before  the  snow  comes,  in  the  fields  and 
woods  just  about  Boston.     These  the  mothers  and 
older  sisters  at  home  make  up  into  wreaths,  crosses, 
and  other  emblems ;  and  a  few  days  before  Christinas 
the  children  go  out  upon  the  street  and  sell  them 
from  door  to  door. 

The  florists  seldom,  if  ever,  employ  boys  and  girls 
to  sell  their  holiday  decorations;  and  whenever  or 
wherever  you  see  these  little  out  door  merchants,  you 
may  be  pretty  sure  they  are  selling  on  their  own  re- 
sponsibility. 

But  we  are  wandering  away  from  little  Anna,  and 


Christmas  Greens.  n 

it  is  her  "store"  that  I  want  you  to  notice,  particu- 
larly. Perhaps  you  have  already  recognized  her,  for 
the  picture  we  give  you  is  taken  from  life,  and  all  last 
summer  she  stood  at  this  very  same  corner,  selling 
mints  and  herbs.  Her  dark  hair  and  eyes  certainly 
remind  one  of  the  little  Italians  down  in  Ferry  and 
North  Bennett  street ;  but  Anna  is  of  German  parent- 
age, and  since  the  father's  death,  her  mother  has 
been  obliged  to  go  out  to  service,  while  a  kind  old 
aunt  who  lives  in  one  of  those  dark  tenement  houses 
on  Hanover  Avenue,  has  shared  her  hard  earned  home 
with  little  Anna. 

Weeks  ago,  before  the  drifting  snows  came,  the 
men  and  boys  of  the  family  gathered  these  bright 
evergreens  —  feathery  "princess  pine,"  and  the  "run- 
ning Jennie"  that  clambers  everywhere  with  her 
"  seven-leagued  boots,"  sprays  of  the  Roxbury  wax- 
work, too,  snow-white  immortelles,  and  the  dazzling 
red  berries  of  the  bitter-sweet  they  found  down  in  the 
Waltham  Meadows ;  and  could  you  have  looked  into 
Anna's  home  those  long  November  evenings,  you 
would  have  seen  the  whole  family  busily  at  work 
upon  the  fragrant  greens  —  sometimes,  "  till  the  wee 
small  hours  "  of  night.  For  it  takes  a  deal  of  time 
and  patience  to  make  these  pretty  emblems  as  any 
of  my  little  readers  know,  who  have  tried  the  work 


12  Child   Toilers. 

themselves,  for  home  and  school  decoration ;  and 
the  modest  price  that  Anna  asks  for  her  wreaths 
and  crosses,  is  but  a  just  compensation  for  the  labor 
bestowed  upon  them  If  she  is  successful  in  her  hol- 
iday sales,  she  will  go  to  school  through  the  remain- 
ing winter  months  ;  and  then  when  the  "  dandelions  " 
come,  you  will  see  her  again  at  the  corner.  And  let 
us  not  forget  that  little  Anna  is  but  "  one  of  many." 

On  the  opposite  corner  of  the  "  Agricultural  Ware- 
house "  you  will  find  another  little  vender  of  Christ- 
mas greens  whose  story  is  no  less  interesting.  Liz  is 
a  littlje  German  girl,  too ;  but  unlike  Anna,  she  has 
been  brought  up  a  Roman  Catholic.  Her  father  and 
mother  are  both  living,  but  the  family  are  poor  ;  and 
all  through  the  year,  little  Liz,  the  youngest  and  the 
only  child  now  at  home,  helps  bravely,  by  her  street 
vending  to  keep  the  dreaded  "  wolf  from  the  door." 
At  one  time  she  attended  an  evening  school;  but 
looking  down  with  reddening  cheeks  upon  her 
shabby  dress  and  tattered  shawl,  she  said  in  answer 
to  my  question  : 

"  No,  ma'am  —  I  don't  go  now  —  they  all  made  so 
much  fun  of  me  !  " 

I'oor  little  Liz  I 

Will  no  one  share  with  her,  and  the  large  class  she 
represents,  a  drop  from  their  "over-flowing  cups?" 


Christmas    Greens.  13 

These  hard  times  have  affected  the  sale  of  Christ- 
mas greens,  more  than  one  might  imagine  ;  but,  as  a 
rule,  the  demand  for  them  increases  every  year.  And 
truly  what  better  cheer  can  we  give  our  homes,  than 
a  breath  of  all  these  green  things  that  with  mute  but 
eloquent  lips  are  always  praising  the  Lord  ?  Some 
say  that  the  custom  of  decorating  our  houses  and  our 
churches  with  these  fragrant  boughs,  is  borrowed  from 
the  old  Druids,  who  sought  thus  to  shelter  their  wood 
nymphs  from  the  biting  frosts  ;  however  that  maybe, 
it  is  among  Christian  nations  only,  that  we  find  the 
true  signification  of  Christmas  greens;  for  are  they 
not  all  emblems  of  the  true  life  of  life  that  still  abides 
in  the  heart  though  all  without  is  cold  and  dead? 
Years  ago,  in  the  old  Puritan  families  of  New  Eng- 
land, any  festivities  at  Christmas  time  would  have 
been  as  severely  denounced  as  that  first  banjo  in 
church  !  But  as  the  years  went  by,  there  came,  from 
over  the  seas,  Norse  and  Swedes  and  happy  German 
families  who  brought  with  them  all  manner  of  quaint, 
beautiful  customs  that  the  litlle  American  children 
looked  upon  with  wonder  and  delight.  From  their 
English  cousins  they  had  heard  about  the  great  yule- 
log  that  burned  from  Christmas  eve  to  Candlemas ; 
the  mistletoe  bough  under  which  so  many  kisses  were 


14  Child   Toilers. 

stolen ;  the  Glastonbury  hawthorn  that  always  blos- 
somed on  Christmas  morning ;  the  games  on  Twelfth- 
night;  and  the  sweet  carols  that  the  little  chimney- 
sweeps sang  in  the  streets. 

But  the  legends  about  the  Christ-child,  -and  the 
beautiful  trees  with  their  waxen  tapeis  and  their 
wonderful  fruit  of  toys  and  bon-bons  —  this  was 
something  altogether  new  to  Boston  children,  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  Now,  aside  from  the  large  quantities 
sold  in  Quincy  Market,  on  Boylston  street  corner,  and 
other  well-known  localities  in  the  business  part  of  out 
city,  every  florist  sells,  upon  an  average,  four  or  five 
hundred  trees  at  Christmas  time,  together  with  an 
indefinite  number  of  wreaths,  crosses  and  other  em- 
blems. In  addition  to  the  evergreens  already  men- 
tioned, the  holly  (originally  holy  tree),  the  kalmia, 
or  laurel,  the  inkberry,  a  great  variety  of  mosses, 
ferns,  grasses  and  immortelles  are  always  in  demand 
for  Christmas  decorations ;  and  since  we  have  only  a 
poor  substitute  in  this  country  for  mistletoe,  all  oui 
large  florist  establishments  send  directly  to  England 
for  this  magical  parasite,  that  is  said  to  possess 
especial  power  when  found  growing  upon  oak  boughs 
Of  the  many  varieties  of  roseum  or  "everlasting" 
flowers,  I  am  told,  that  large  quantities  are  grown 


Christmas  Greens.  15 

upon  the  waste  lands  at  Cape  Cod ;  then  they  are 
taken  to  wholesale  establishments  in  Paris  and  Lon- 
don, made  into  all  sorts  of  designs,  and  frequently 
adorned  with  artificial  colors,  before  they  again  cross 
the  water  to  be  sold  in  our  city  as  choice  importations. 
The  natural  colors  of  these  "  immortelle  "  flowers, 
are  white  ( which  needs,  however,  a  thorough  bleach- 
ing before  use),  a  brilliant  yellow,  and,  among  the 
"  amaranth "  family,  various  shades  of  crimson. 
Sometimes,  especially  when  the  wreaths,  crosses 
.  etc.,  are  intended  for  memorial  purposes  as  well  as 
for  Christmas  decorations,  the  natural  tints  are  pre- 
ferred; for  white  is  always  in  demand,  and  yellow  in 
France,  is  considered  a  badge  of  mourning  and  used" 
at  funerals  as  we  would  use  white  or  black.  There 
is,  among  the  "roseums,"  a  shaded  orange  that  is 
not  natural,  but  you  can  readily  tell  whether  the  color 
is  artificial  or  not  by  noticing  the  separate  flowers 
which  always  lose  somewhat  of  their  perfect  "  rose  " 
form,  when  subjected  to  the  dyeing  process.  Aside 
from  this,  it  is  really  a  very  easy  matter  to  tint  the 
stiff  petals  of  "everlasting"  flowers;  and  although, 
as  we  said  before,  most  of  these  decorations  are  sold 
as  imported  articles,  the  work  can  be  done  (and 
probably  is  done,  in  many  instances),  at  our  own 
dye-houses.  Indeed,  quite  a  field  is  opened  here,  for 


1 6  Child  Toilers. 

home  ingenuity  |  for  by  the  use  of  a  camel's  hair  brush 
and  good,  durable  colors,  skillful  fingers  can  produce 
far  prettier  effects,  than  any  we  find  among  the  so 
called  imported  designs. 

It  is  a  good  thing  for  both  the  florists  and  the 
street  venders  when  Christmas  comes  upon  a  Satur- 
day, for  then  the  whole  preceeding  week  can  be  devoted 
to  the  display  and  sale  of  Christmas  greens.  Should  a 
Sunday  come  between,  the  "  out  door  "  corners  must 
"  shut  up  shop  "  and  put  their  wares  out  of  the  way ; 
but  sometimes  quick  sales  bring  the  largest  profit ; 
and  the  night  before  Christmas  always  presents  one 
of  the  liveliest  sights  imaginable  down  in  Quincy 
Market.  Then  every  scrap  of  green  is  eagerly  gath- 
ered up  and  sold  by  handfuls ;  for  there  is  always  the 
"  late  "  customer  for  Christmas  greens  as  for  every- 
thing else  ;  and  many  an  enterprising  little  urchin,  by 
careful  "  gathering  up  of  the  fragments,"  succeeds  in 
turning  at  the  eleventh  hour,  literally  —  a  goodly 
number  of  pennies  for  Christmas  morning. 


THE  NEWSBOYS. 


DID  you  ever  stop  to  think  what  a  curious  sort  of 
life  our  little  newsboys  lead  ?  Taking  a  car 
one  afternoon,  just  below  the  Herald  office  on  Wash- 
ington Street,  I  was  greatly  entertained  by  a  bevy  of 
these  little  fellows,  who  came  trooping  in  and  soon 
filled  up  all  the  vacant  seats  about  me. 

Their  arms  were  full  of  the  latest  edition,  fresh 
from  the  press ;  and  with  a  nimbleness  of  ringer  that 
could  only  have  come  from  long  practice,  they  quickly 
folded  the  damp  sheets,  slung  them  across  their  shoul- 
ders, and  then,  with  hands  jingling  the  change  in  their 
pockets,  they  began  to  talk  over  the  day's  losses  and 
gains,  and  the  splendid  sales  in  store  for  them  be- 

17 


i8  Child  Toilers. 

• 
cause  of  the  "  big  sensation,"  all  with  a  shrewdness 

and  keen  business  insight  worthy  of  State  Street  or 
the  Exchange. 

It  was  amusing  and  painful  both — this  precocious 
child-talk.  The  largest  boy  among  them  was  scarcely 
older  than  little  Tom,  who  comes  every  morning  to 
his  papa  for  spending-money,  and  who  reckons  its 
value  simply  by  the  amount  of  toys  or  candies  it  will 
buy. 

What  would  our  little  boy  think,  I  wonder,  if  his 
breakfast,  his  dinner,  and  his  supper  —  to  say  noth- 
ing of  lodging  and  clothes,  —  depended  upon  the 
pennies  he  could  earn  each  day  ? 

Yet  among  the  three  hundred  newsboys  who  throng 
our  Boston  streets,  I  find  there  is  scarcely  one  upon 
whose  exertions  does  not  depend  his  own  support,  and, 
in  many  instances,  the  maintenance  of  a  whole 
family  1 

It  was  only  to-day  that  an  instance  came  to  my  no- 
tice deserving  especial  mention.  Down  by  Snow-hill 
Street  is  a  poor  Italian  family,  consisting  of  father, 
mother,  and  (if  I  remember  rightly)  five  children. 

Two  of  the  boys  are  licensed  to  sell  newspapers, 
but  at  one  time  last  winter  the  elder  brother  was 
taken  ill,  and  the  father  was  sick  in  bed  for  months. 
During  all  this  time  the  whole  burden  came  upon  lit- 


The  Newsboys.  19 

tie  Antonio,  who  is  only  twelve  years  old,  and  so  very 
slight  you  would  think  4iim  much  younger. 

But  the  brave  lad  at  once  "  took  in  the  situation," 
and  by  rising  early  and  working  late,  he  managed  to 
earn  enough  each  day  from  the  sale  of  his  papers  to 
support  them  all  till  father  and  mother  were  able  to 
work  again. 

Then  there  is  little  Joseph  Dondaro,  whose  shrill 
voice  you  may  have  heard  on  the  corner  last  evening, 
as  he  shouted  his  "Herald!  Five  o'clock!"  He  is  a 
tiny. boy,  with  jet-black  eyes,  hair  to  match,  and  a 
nut-brown  complexion  that  is  not  wholly  due  to  dust 
and  tan.  For  Joe  is  of  Jewish  parentage,  and  a  hard 
life  the  little  fellow  has  had  ever  since  he  can  remem- 
ber. His  mother  died  about  a  year  ago,  and  the 
wretched  drunkard  he  calls  "  father "  is  so  cruel  to 
Joe  and  his  little  sister,*  that  the  children  were  only 
too  glad  when,  some  months  since,  he  took  his  hand- 
organ  and,  leaving  the  little  ones  to  look  after  them- 
selves, -wandered  off  into  the  country  —  nobody  knew 
whither. 

Since  then  Joe,  with  all  the  dignity  of  ten  years,  has 
taken  upon  himself  the  entire  responsibility,  and  tried 
to  fill  the  place  of  father  and  mother  both  to  his  little 
sister,  who  is  only  six  years  old. 

Upon  an  average  he  can  earn  by  the  sale  of  his 


20  Child   Toilers. 

papers  three  dollars  a  week  j  out  of  this  sum  he  pays 
for  the  rent  of  their  one  room  on  Endicott  Street, 
seventy-five  cents  per  week,  while  the  remainder  — 
just  think  how  small !  —  must  feed  and  clothe  them. 

Down  on  North  Margin  Street  is  a  neat  brick 
building  known  as  the  "  School  for  Newsboys  and 
Bootbtacks,"  and  here  it  was  that  I  first  saw  little 
Joseph.  For,  by  the  conditions  of  his  license,  every 
minor,  in  our  well-regulated  city,  is  expected  to  attend 
school  at  least  two  hours  each  day  during  the  school 
year. 

Many  of  our  public  schools  admit  such  pupils,  and 
I  think  the  Eliot  school  alone  contains  some  forty 
newsboys;  but  as  "two-hour"  pupils  need  separate 
classes,  they  cause,  of  course,  a  deal  of  irregularity 
in  graded  schools ;  and  so,  some  ten  years  back,  two 
special  schools  —  one  on  North  Margin  Street,  under 
the  charge  of  Miss  Brackett,  the  other  in  East-street 
Place,  under  Miss  Tailor,  were  opened  to  give  our 
newsboys,  boot-blacks,  and  little  street-peddlers  the 
benefit  of  thorough  instruction  at  such  hours  of  the 
day  as  would  least  interfere  with  their  "  trade." 

Before  the  city  fathers,  however,  had  thought  of 
this  excellent  arrangement,  certain  kind  ladies  had 
established,  in  the  old  church  on  Chauncy  Street,  a 
free  day  school  for  these  little  street  venders  ;  and 


THE  NEWSBOY. 


The  Newsboys.  23 

had  it  not  been  for  the  benevolence,  zeal,  and  success- 
ful labors  of  those  early  workers,  I  doubt  if  the  pres- 
ent fine  schools  would  ever  have  had  an  existence. 

The  school  in  East-street  Place,  which  is  composed 
almost  exclusively  of  newsboys,  numbers  between 
twenty  and  thirty  pupils,  and  is  open  from  nine  w 
eleven  in  the  morning,  and  from  twelve  till  two  in  the 
afternoon.  Nearly  all  the  boys  here  are  of  Irish 
parentage,  while  in  the  school  on  North  Margin 
Street,  which  is  somewhat  larger,  by  far  the  greater 
proportion  are  Italians. 

It  is  an  interesting  sight  to  watch  these  little  street 
Arabs  poring  over  their  well-thumbed  books ;  and  as 
I  studied  their  bright,  intelligent  faces,  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  what  a  safeguard  through  the  day  these 
precious  two  hours  may  be  to  them  ! 

For  besides  learning  to  "  read,  write  and  cipher," 
the  kind,  judicious,  Christian  training  they  are  con- 
stantly receiving  in  these  excellent  schools  is  really  of 
more  value  to  them  than  any  amount  of  mere  book 
knowledge. 

Here  is  a  little  fellow  who  was  pronounced  incor- 
rigible when  first  brought  in  from  the  streets;  but 
patient  instruction,  and  the  kind,  firm  control  of  his 
teacher,  have  already  wrought  such  a  change  in  him 
that  Johnny  is  now  considered  one  of  the  brightest, 


24  Child  Toilers. 

best-behaved  boys  in  the  whole  school.  He  and  his 
little  brother  Michael  are  both  licensed  newsboys,  and 
upon  them  depends  the  main  support  of  the  family, 
for  their  father,  too,  is  a  miserable  drunkard. 

Questioning  one  after  another,  your  heart  aches  for 
these  little  "  child  toilers,"  who  must  needs  learn  so 
early  in  life  all  the  "  rough  and  tumble "  of  this 
strange,  work-a-day  world.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a 
bright  side  to  the  picture,  for,  thrown  upon  their  own 
resources,  and  stimulated  by  the  thought  of  weaker 
ones  who  depend  upon  them,  these  little  fellows  early 
develop  a  sturdy  self-reliance,  and  a  brave  fortitude 
that  in  after-life  is  of  inestimable  benefit  to  them. 

Here,  for  instance,  is  little  Robert  Kelly,  only 
twelve  years  of  age,  who  helps  support  a  family  of 
eight  persons.  His  father  gets  occasional  jobs  when 
he  can,  at  the  coal  wharves  j  but,  after  all,  it  is  upon 
little  Robert  that  the  steady  maintenance  depends. 
At  home,  he  is  his  mother's  "  right  hand  man  "  in 
doing  all  sorts  of  chores;  and  at  school  his  neat,  tidy 
appearance,  and  good  conduct,  are  especially  praise- 
worthy. 

Another  boy,  John  Falvey,  by  name,  is  fourteen 
years  of  age,  and  the  oldest  of  four  children.  His 
father  is  scarcely  ever  in  a  condition  to  earn  anything, 
and  the  mother,  with  her  home  cares,  can  do  but 


The  Newsboys.  25 

little.  So  the  support  of  the  family  comes  upon  John 
and  his  youngest  brother,  who  have  bravely  taken  up 
the  burden  together.  These  few  instances  might  be 
multiplied  by  a  score  of  others ;  but  I  think  enough 
have  already  been  given,  to  show  my  readers  how 
much  depends  upon  the  labors  of  this  class  of  little 
men. 

To  be  sure,  their  behavior  upon  the  street,  is  not 
always  what  it  should  be.  Sometimes,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  they  are  rude,  noisy,  and  otherwise  disagreeable 
to  passers-by.  There  is  one  sad  picture  that  haunts 
me  as  I  write,  and  I  wouldn't  show  it  to  my  "  Wide 
Awake"  readers,  only  that  I  want  them  to  know  all 
about  the  temptations  and  dangers  that  beset  our 
little  newsboys.  One  night,  not  long  ago,  a  tiny  lad, 
not  more  than  nine  years  old,  was  found  —  must  I 
write  the  ugly  words  ?  — just  beastly  drunk,  under  the 
steps  in  Williams  Court!  Perhaps  it  was  his  first 
taste  of  the  vile  liquor  —  at  all  events,  let  us  hope  it 
will  be  the  last — but  the  lager  beer  wagons  offer 
great  temptations  to  the  hungry,  thirsty  boys,  and  I 
fear  that  many  of  them  are  frequent  customers.  Bad 
conduct  on  the  street,  however,  is  the  exception,  not 
the  rule,  among  our  Boston  newsboys.  The  bright 
badge  they  wear  upon  their  jackets,  with  their  num- 
ber and  "  Licensed  "  upon  it,  is  in  itself  a  guarantee 


26  Child  Toilers. 

of  good  behavior ;  for  before  obtaining  this  from  the 
city  government,  the  boys  are  on  probation  a  certain 
length  -of  time.  If  they  prove  worthy,  and  promise 
faithfully  to  comply  with  the  terms  and  conditions  of 
a  "  Minor's  License  ;  "  application  is  made  for  them, 
by  some  responsible  person,  to  the  Board  of  Alder- 
men j  and  in  due  course  of  time  they  receive  their 
license  papers.  Each  boy  has  his  own  number,  and 
by  the  payment  of  one  dollar,  the  silver  badges  are 
given  them,  which  they  promise  to  wear  conspicuously 
in  sight,  and,  on  no  condition,  transfer,  exchange, 
borrow  or  lend.  If  at  any  time  they  wish  to  give  up 
their  licenses,  these  badges  are  returned,  and  their 
money  is  paid  back  to  them. 

Happening  in,  one  day,  at  the  office  on  Pemberton 
Square,  I  watched  with  not  a  little  interest,  a  group 
of  "  candidates "  as  the  boys  are  called  before  they 
have  received  their  badges.  The  little  fellows  eagerly 
crowded  round  the  officer's  desk,  each  with  his  own 
story  to  tell,  and  one  after  another  they  received  their 
license  papers  and  bright  silver  badges.  One  boy, 
who  stood  apart  from  the  rest,  had  come  to  give  up 
his  license  and  badge ;  but  as  the  latter  was  some- 
what marred  by  careless  usage,  I  noticed  he  received 
but  seventy-five  cents  for  it.  Another  little  urchin 
who  could  hardly  reach  up  to  the  desk  on  tip-toe,  laid 


The  Newsboys,  27 

H| 

down  the  two  half  dollars  he  had  brought,  and  re- 
ceived not  only  his  badge  but  a  silver  quarter  beside. 
This  greatly  surprised  and  delighted  him;  but  Mr. 
Wright,  who  has  charge  of  these  matters  and -is  always 
a  kind  friend  to  the  boys,  explained  that  the  badge  he 
had  given  him,  though  "  second-hand,"  would  answer 
every  purpose,  and  the  extra  quarter  was  greatly 
needed  at  home.  Opening  the  big  books  where  all 
the  boy's  licenses  —  or  rather  copies  of  them  —  are 
filed,  one  gets  an  insight  into  the  workings  of  this  ad- 
-mirable  system.  "  A  gentleman  came  to  me  the  other 
day,"  said  one  of  the  officers  in  charge,  and  told  me 
how  a  certain  newsboy  had  cheated  him.  "  I  had  no 
pennies,"  the  gentleman  went  on  to  say,  "  but  taking 
one  of  the  boy's  papers,  I  handed  him  a  twenty-five 
cent  piece  which  he  ran  around  ttie  corner  to  change. 
Of  course,  that  was  the  last  of  the  boy  and  the  twenty- 
five —  now,  sir,  don't  misunderstand  me  —  I  don't 
care  for  the  missing  change,  but  I  do  care  for  the 
morals  of  your  newsboys !  " 

•  "  Begging  the  gentleman  to  wait  a  few  moments,  I 
looked  over  my  books,"  said  the  officer,  "found  the 
boy's  number  which  the  gentleman  had  noticed  upon 
his  badge,  and  in  the  course  of  fifteen  minutes  the 
lad  stood  before  us.  He  hung  down  his  head  when 
we  began  to  question  him,  and  I  feared,  at  first,  that 


28  ,  Child  Toilers. 

the  boy  was  guilty;  but  the  alacrity  with  which  he 
handed  the  gentleman  his  change,  and  his  repeated 
declarations  that  he  '  came  back  to  his  stand  just  as 
quick  as  he  could,  but  the  gentleman  had  gone,'  quite 
satisfied  the  latter,  and  we  both  concluded  it  was 
better  to  let  the  little  fellow  go.  But  you  can  see  by 
this  instance  what  kind  of  reins  we  hold  over  the 
boys,  and  how  quickly  any  misdemeanor  on  their  part 
renders  them  liable  to  forfeiture  of  '  license.'  " 

In  selling  papers,  the  old  proverb  holds  true  —  it  is 
the  "  early  bird  that  gets  the  worm,"  and  a  deal  of 
competition  is  shown  among  these  enterprising  little 
venders. 

The  several  editions  are  hardly  out  of  press,  before 
our  newsboys  are  "  on  the  spot ; "  and  Herald,  Jour- 
nal, Globe,  Advertiser,  Traveller,  Times,  Transcript, 
and  Post  are  sounded  through  the  streets  by  three 
hundred  pairs  of  lungs,  long  before  the  ink  is  dry. 

But  if  you  want  to  see  a  genuine  "  rush,"  look  into 
Williams  Court  some  afternoon  between  the  hours  of 
three  and  four.  For  the  "  five  o'clock  edition,"  as  it 
is  called,  though  really  ready  for  distribution  an  hour 
or  two  earlier,  is  the  most  important  issue  of  the  day ; 
and  the  "hand  to  hand"  scramble  then,  for  the  first 
sheets  as  they  come  from  the  printers,  is  an  exciting 
scene,  well  worth  witnessing. 


The  Newsboys.  29 

In  the  peculiar,  weird  light  of  the  narrow  Court, 
the  little  urchins  rushing,  tumbling,  screaming,  hurry- 
ing hither  and  thither,  and  reaching  pell-mell  one  over, 
the  other,  look  more  like  little  elves  than  actual  chil- 
dren ;  but  while  you  are  wondering  where  they  have 
all  come  from,  so  suddenly,  and  why  it  is  they  do  not 
get  into  some  inextricable  tangle,  there  comes  an 
unexpected  lull  —  in  another  instant  the  court  is 
deserted,  and  up  and  down  Washington  street,  on 
Tremont  Row,  at  the  depots,  the  ferries,  the  different 
street  corners,  the  entrance  to  theatre,  concert  and 
lecture  rooms,  on  the  horse-cars,  the  Common,  the 
gardens,  the  various  public  squares,  the  evening  trains 
—  no  matter  where  you  turn,  the  newsboy's  shrill  cry 
pierces  your  brain. 

'During  "elections,"  the  little  fellows  are  frequently 
up  all  night;  and  any  "special"  news  matter,  —  as  a 
great  fire,  a  murder,  or  a  disaster  at  sea,  —  is  always 
locked  upon  as  a  windfall,  because  of  the  "  extra " 
sales  it  will  bring.  The  Sunday  papers  all  give  them 
a  larger  percentage  of  profit,  than  the  dailies;  but 
through  the  week  more  Heralds  are  sold  upon  the 
street  than  any  other  of  our  city  journals. 

It  would  be  interesting  if  we  could  trace  out  the 
histories  of  our  little  newsboys,  as,  one  after  another, 
they  outgrow  their  street  occupations,  and  seek  more 
manly  employments. 


30  Child   Toilers. 

Sometimes,  they  learn  a  trade,  enter  shops*  or  set 
up  business  for  themselves;  and  to  one  lad  who  has 
proved  himself  especially  worthy,  I  am  told  a  fine 
position  has  been  given,  in  one  of  our  leading  news- 
pnper  establishments.  The  life  of  a  newsboy,  as  you 
see,  is  certainly  one  that  is  full  of  temptation,  full  of 
hardship ;  but  always  proves  a  good  training  school, 
if  right  influences  can  -only  be  thrown  about  the 


Two  MEMBERS  OF  THE  "SHOVEL  BRIGADE.'' 


THE  SHOVEL  BRIGADE. 


"1\   TY  eyes,  Mike!  here's  a  job  sure's  fun  !     Wake 
1V1  up,  old  fellow,  I  say!" 

"  Heigho !  What's  up,  Jack  ?  "  yawns  sleepy  Mike 
from  the  farthest  corner  of  the  old  mat  that  has 
served  them  both  for  a  bed. 

"Big  snowstorm  —  reg'lar  nor'easter  —  foot  and 
half  deep,  and  not  a  sidewalk  shovelled  yet !  Hurry 
up,  old  Lazybones,  or  Teddy  and  Jim'll  be  ahead  of 
us!" 

It  is  hardly  light,  and  Jack,  as  he  rubs  off  a  corner 
of  the  frosty  pane,  can  see  nothing  in  the  street  below 
but  one  unbroken  mass  of  pure  white  snow.  How 
pretty  Ferry  Court  looks  in  its  new  dress !  Why ! 
even  the  old  ash-heaps,  the  refuse  barrels,  and  the 
broken  bottles,  stand  out  like  so  many  groups  of 
carved  marble. 

33 


34  Child   Toilers. 

But  that  isn't  what  Jack  is  thinking  about,  as  he 
stands  there  at  the  window  with  hands  in  his  pocket ! 
The  truth  is,  the  little  fellow  is  cold,  hungry  and 
sleepy  —  he  was  out  last  night  till  nearly  midnight 
selling  newspapers,  —  and  though  he  wouldn't  miss 
these  extra  ''jobs  "for  the  world,  he  doesn't  quite 
relish  the  idea  of  starting  off  without  his  breakfast. 

"  I  say,  Mike,  do  yer  think  they'll  give  us  a  bite  at 
the  big  house  'round  the  corner  ?  -" 

"  Like  enough,  Jack,  there's  a  jolly  fat  cook  there ! 
—  but  hold  on  a  minute.  It's  dry  snow  —  just  like 
powder.  We'll  need  the  big  broom  and  shovel  both." 

"All  right.  Start  along,  Slow-coach,  I'll  take  one 
and  you  take  t'other." 

And  Jack,  foremost  in  everything,  leads  off  with 
the  great  iron  shovel  shouldered  like  a  musket,  while 
Mike,  with  the  old  twig  broom,  lags  on  behind. 

Half  way  down  the  street  they  meet  little  Nicholas 
Grasaro,  who  means  to  get  a  "  job,"  too,  before  it  is 
time  to  give  his  customers  a  "shine."  They  are  old 
comrades — the  three  boys,  —  for  though  Nicholas  is 
only  a  boot-black  not  "  up "  in  the  newspaper  trade 
like  Jack  and  Mike,  they  all  belong  to  the  same  "  fra- 
ternity," and  meet  daily  at  the  "  Newsboys'  and  Boot- 
blacks' School,"  down  on  North  Margin  Street. 

Jack  and  Mike  have  the  true -Irish  brogue,  but 


The  Shovel  Brigade.  35 

Nicholas  is  an  Italian  boy,  as  you  can  tell  at  once 
when  you  get  a  full  look  at  his  face.  These  extra 
"  jobs  "  he  is  always  on  the  lookout  for,  —  at  least,  -he 
well  understands  how  much  the  extra  pennies  are 
needed  at  home  ;  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what 
would  become  of  the  family  if  it  were  not  for  little 
Nicholas.  The  poor  father  has  long  been  helpless 
from  paralysis,  and  I  fear  he  will  never  leave  his  bed 
again.  The  mother  tries  to  earn  what  she  can,  and 
at  one  time  she  had  a  fruit-stand.  But  there  are 
many  days  when  the  sick  man  needs  her  constant 
care,  and  Nicholas'  little  sister  is  hardly  able  to  look 
after  the  stand  all  by  herself. 

So  they  must  depend  upon  what  Nicholas  can 
earn ;  and  the  "  shines  "  —  notwithstanding  the  nice 
place  the  little  fellow  has,  down  in  Brattle  Street  — 
seldom  "net"  more  than  four  dollars  a  week.  An 
extra  job,  therefore,  is  well  worth  the  trouble  of  rising 
an  hour  or  two  earlier  to  secure,  and  Nicholas  knows 
he  will  have  beside  —  what  poor  Jack  and  Mike  know 
nothing  about — a  warm  welcome  when  he  gets 
back! 

But  the  clock  has  struck  seven,  and  the  boys' 
tracks  in  the  snow  are  already  followed  by  larger  and 
heavier  ones. 

"  We  mustn't  let  the  city  men  git  ahead  of  us  1 " 


36  Child   Toilers. 

shouts  Jack,  as  he  makes  a  bee  line  to  the  "big  house 
'round  the  corner." 

A  ring  at  the  area  bell,  a  smiling  assent  from  the 
jolly-faced  cook,  and  Jack  and  Mike  begin  work  in 
good  earnest. 

"  I  say,  though,  didn't  that  steak  smell  bunkum, 
Mike  ?  " 

"Yis,  and  the  coffee  what  steamed  on  the  stove! 
Let's  hurry  up  and  p'raps  we'll  get  a  smack !  I  won- 
der how  Nick  gets  along  with  that  one  little  shovel  of 
his  ?  Let's  lend  him  a  hand  if  we  git  through  first." 

Jack  demurs  a  little  at  Mike's  las't  proposition,  but 
scrapes  on  with  dogged  persistency. 

"  Whew !  it  make's  a  fellow's  fingers  ache,  though !  " 
exclaimed  Mike,  as  he  stops  a  moment  to  blow  vigor- 
ously upon  the  purple  tips.  If  he  hadn't  looked  up 
just  then  he  wouldn't  have  seen  the  tall  beaver.  But 
look  up  he  did,  and  there  was  the  tempting  target ! 
Quick  as  a  flash  the  broom  was  dropped,  the  snow- 
ball fired,  and  off  rolled  the  new  beaver  way  across 
the  street,  on  a  revolving  tour  of  exploration.  And 
off  started  the  repentant  little  Arab,  the  very  same 
instant,  in  hot  pursuit !  I'm  glad  to  say  he  didn't 
take  the  offered  dime  from  unsuspecting  young  Har- 
vard, for  it  was  pure  mischief — nothing  else  —  that 
prompted  this  sudden  episode. 


The  Shovel  Brigade.  37 

All  up  and  down  the  street,  on  either  side,  the 
Shovel  Brigade  are  now  busily  at  work.  Yes,  and  all 
the  neighboring  streets,  too,  are  alive  with  these  ani- 
mated silhouettes  —  for  just  like  shadow  pictures  the 
black  figures  stand  out  on  the  white  background ! 

If  you  open  your  window  and  listen,  the  scraping 
shovel,  the  swirring  brooms,  and  the  occasional  thuds 
of  snow  sound,  in  the  crisp  electric  atmosphere,  not 
unlike  the  chords  of  a  distant  "  street  band." 

Here  and  there  you  will  note  the  bright  badge  of 
some  wide-awake  policeman,  who  is  on  the  lookout 
for  neglected  sidewalks;  for  although  it  is  a  well- 
known  regulation  in  our  good  city  that,  if  a  snow- 
storm comes  at  night,  every  pavement  must  be  clear 
before  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning,  there  are  some 
sleepy  households  that  need  constant  reminders. 
Should,  the  snow  come  in  the  daytime  it  must,  accord- 
ing to  law,  be  removed  in  the  space  of  an  hour  after 
it  has  stopped  falling — an  excellent  rule,  if  it  were 
only  carried  out ;  but  often  the  work  is  delayed,  or 
so  poorly  done  that  treacherous  spots  are  left,  and 
many  serious  accidents  occur  in  consequence. 

Jack  and  Mike,  however,  have  finished  their  "  job  " 
in  the  most  approved  style  this  morning.  To  be 
sure,  in  spite  of  its  depth,  it  was  a  light  snow  —  dry, 
feathery,  and  far  easier  to  remove  than  the  wet,  heavy 


38  Child  Toilers. 

snows  that  sometimes  come ;  but  the  boys  are  faith- 
ful little  fellows,  and  whether  the  work  be  light  or 
heavy,  they  always  do  their  "  level  best."  That  is 
why  the  owner  of  the  big  house  was  so  ready  to 
employ  them  this  morning ;  he  watched  them  from 
the  window  last  time,  and  rerrfembers  how  well  they 
managed  the  troublesome  drifts  that  blew  around  the 
corner.  He  is  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  Jack  is  not 
doomed  to  disappointment  this  morning  ;  the  jolly- 
faced  cook  has  orders  to  have  a  good  hot  breakfast 
all  ready  for  them  when  the  work  is  done ;  and  then, 
besides,  there  is  a  bright  silver  dime  waiting  on  the 
table  for  each  of  them. 

Little  Nicholas  is  just  as  hungry  and  just  as  deserv- 
ing, but  all  he  receives  for  his  hard  v/ork  is  a  nickel 
five  cent  piece  !  Well,  that,  to  be  sure,  is  better  than 
nothing — it  will  buy  a  loaf  of  bread  at  the  baker's 
round  the  block ;  but  why  couldn't  the  thoughtless 
millionaire  have  opened  his  heavy  purse  a  bit  wider  to 
poor  little  Nicholas  ? 

The  boy  cannot  bear  to  go  home  with  this  meagre 
sum ;  so,  while  Jack  and  Mike  are  feasting  in  the  warm 
kitchen,  he  looks  about  for  another  "job."  This 
time  he  is  more  fortunate ;  a  sweet-faced  old  lady 
taps  on  the  window  to  him,  for  she  has  seen  his  faith- 
ful labor  across  the  way  —  somebody  always  sees 


The  Shovel  Brigade.  39 

faithful  labor  sooner  or  later,  —  and  Nicholas'  black 
eyes  fairly  dance  when  she  offers  him  twenty-five 
cents  for  cleaning  steps,  pavement  and  upper 
balcony. 

Two  hours' later  the  boys,  rather  tired,  to  be  sure, 
after  their,  hard  morning's  work*  but  all  aglow  with 
exercise  and  excitement  combined,  meet  in  the  little 
school-room  and  compare  notes  with  their  comrades. 

They  are  a  whole  hour  late,  and  all  truancy  or  un- 
necessary tardiness  is  always  punished  as  it  deserves ; 
but  this  morning  the  kind  teacher  is  quite  ready  to 
excuse  them,  for  she  knows  all  about  "  her  boys," 
and  is  as  glad  as  they  are  when  these  extra  jobs 
come,  and  they  can  carry  home  a  few  extra  pennies. 

I  have  given  you  a  peep  into  two  of  these  homes  '} 
Would  you  like  to  see  another?  Come  then  with- 
Louis,  another  little  Italian  boy,  who  has  earned  fifty 
cents  this  morning  by  "  shoveling  "  and  "  shining  " 
both.  He  is  in  a  hurry  to  tell  the  good  news,  and 
scampers  up  the  four  rickety  flights,  two  steps  at  a 
time. 

It  is  one  of  the  darkest,  dingiest,  most  unwhole- 
some rooms  in  the  whole  tenement,  but  it  is  all  the 
home  that  Louis  knows  anything  about.  A  rusty 
cooking-stove,  with  clothes  drying  on  the  line  just 
over  it,  an  old  mattrass  in  the  corner,  a  table  with  the 


40  Child  Toilers. 

remains  of  cold  potatoes,  maccaroni,  etc.,  still  upon 
it,  one  or  two  broken  chairs,  and  the  baby's  cradle, 
make  up  the  furniture  of  the  room. 

But  five  little  children,  ranging  all  the  way  from 
six  months  upward,  fill  whatever  empty  spaces  are 
left,  and  unless  you  step  carefully  you  may  tread  on 
some  of  the  little  creatures !  The  mother,  who  is 
mending  a  tiny  garment  while  its  owner  is  asleep, 
welcomes  Louis  with  a  sunny  smile.  No  matter  how 
tired  or  discouraged  she  is,  there  always  seems  to  be 
a  rich  fund  of  love  in  this  mother's  heart  for  each  and 
all  of  her  little  brood. 

The  father  —  it  is  the  same  old  story,  but  just  as 
sad  nevertheless,  —  loves  his  bottle  better  than  he 
does  his  helpless  family :  and  Louis,  ever  since  he 
was  a  wee  baby,  has  seen  so  much  of  the  misery 
caused  by  strong  drink,  that  I  hope  he  will  take  warn- 
ing and  never  touch  it  himself. 

That  bright  half-dollar!  How  the  mother's  eyes 
glisten  as  Louis  twirls  it  on  the  table  and  asks  her 
what  he  shall  buy  first!  A  hard  question  surely, 
when  so  many  things  are  needed  ;  but  hunger  is  the 
loudest  call  after  all,  and  there  are  a  dozen  eager 
mouths  all  waiting  to  be  fed.  Louis  will  earn  an- 
other "  fifty  "  perhaps,  at  his  stand  this  afternoon  ; 
but  unexpected  jobs,  like  the  morning  shoveling,  will 


The  Shovel  Brigade.  41 

always  seem  like  especial  "god-sends." 

Just  think  how  many  miles  of  payement,  all  within 
the  limits  of  the  city,  have  been  traveled  to-day  by 
this  indefatigable  Shovel  Brigade  ;  yet  there  is  a  deal 
ef  "after  work  "  still,  for  the  crow-bar  and  pick-ax- 
recruits.  These  last  are  generally  strong,  able-bodied 
men  employed  by  the  city  authorities ;  and  there  is 
scarcely  a  day  after  the  first  snow  comes  when  you 
will  not  find  them  at  work  somewhere.  Often  the 
horse-car  tracks  become  clogged,  or  the  gutters  need 
attention.  Then,  the  snow  itself,  after  it  is  shovelled 
from  the  pavements  must  be  carted,  or  rather  sledded 
off  ;  and  this  work  gives  employment  to  a  large  num- 
ber of  men  and  boys  throughout  the  winter  months. 

Truly  it  is  an  "  ill  wind  "  that  blows  nobody  any 
good,"  and  when  these  driving  snowstorms  come, 
spoiling  the  skating  for  so  many  boys  and  blocking 
the  trains,  let  us  remember  Jack  and  Mike,  Nicholas, 
Louis  and  all  their  little  comrades,  and  the  men  with 
families  who  are  eagerly  waiting  for  a  "  job,"  and  al- 
ways hail  the  "  falling  skies "  with  undisguised  de- 
light. 


THE  LITTLE  ASH-PICKERS. 

Did  you  ever  put  your  hand  into  a  " grab-bag  " 
If  so,  you  know  just  how  little  Rosa  feels  as, 
standing  on  tip-toe,  she  pokes  her  long  stick  down  into 
the  ashes ! 

There  are  just  fifty  of  them  — great,  dusty,  ugly  bar- 
rels —  waiting  with  open  mouths  on  each  side  of  the 
open  alley-way  between  Boylston  and  Newbury  Streets, 
and  Rosa  with  her  hook  and  her  bag  is  the  very  first 
one  "  on  the  spot  "  this  morning.  By  and  by  the  city 
carts  will  come,  but  just  now  the  field  is  all  her  own, 
and  the  little  girl  goes  to  work  with  an  energy  worthy 
some  better  employment. 

"  Hullo !     What's  this  ?  " 

An  old  coffee-pot,  sure  enough,  with  the  handle 
knocked  off  1     Rosa  looks  it  all  over,  taps  it  with  her 
knuckles,  holds  it  up  to  the  light,  and  considers.     The 
42 


The  Little  Ash-Pickers.  43 

bottom  is  sound,  the  cover  tight.  Yes,  it  is  a  deal 
better  than  the  old  one  at  home,  so  she  tucks  it  into 
the  old  tow  bag,  and  pokes  again.  Dear  me !  what 
a  fumbling  there  is  this  time  !  The  little  red  hood  is 
all  enveloped  in  dust  as  Rosa  draws  out,  one  after 
the  other,  a  pair  of  old,  battered  boots,  minus  every 
button.  But,  beating  out  the  ashes,  she  shoves  her 
little  bare  feet  into  the  discarded  French  kids,  and 
pronounces  them  a  "  perfect  fit."  She  will  find  plenty 
of  buttons  before  she  gets  through  with  those  fifty 
barrels,  and  with  big  needle  and  stout  thread  the  little 
cobbler  knows  she  can  make  the  old  boots  "  most  as 
good  as  new. " 

It  is  the  bits  of  half-burned  coal  that  she  came  out 
so  early  for  this  morning — breakfast  can't  be  cooked 
till  she  brings  her  bag  home  —  but  coffee-pots  arid 
boots  are  not  to  be  found  every  day,  and  Rosa  is  on 
the  lookout  now  for  new  treasures.  Here  is  an  old 
hat  that  will  do  for  little  Tony ;  and  away  down  to  the 
bottom  of  barrel  number  five  gleam  the  shining  sides 
of  an  old  copper  boiler !  With  furtive  glances  up  and 
down  the  alley,  Rosa  seizes  this  last  "  find,"  crams  it 
into  her  bag,  and  scuffles  off  around  the  corner  as 
fast  as  her  heavy  load  and  her  new  boots  will  allow. 
A  copper  boiler !  Just  think  what  luck !  Why,  it's  a 
regular  "  bonanza ''  —  at  least,  so  the  old  junk  dealers 


44  Child   Toilers. 

say,  and  who  should  know  better  than  they?  Perhaps 
you  wonder,  as  I  did,  what  possible  use  could  be  made 
of  an  old  boiler  with  the  bottom  burned  off.  It's  a  se- 
cret of  the  trade,  but  I  will  tell  you,  for  that  pretty  gal- 
vanized coal-hod  by  the  grate  knows  the  whole  story  ! 
"  Once  upon  a  time  "  it  was  —  would  you  believe  it  ?  — 
an  old  dilapidated  boiler  itself !  But  from  ash-barrel 
to  junk-shop,  from  furnace  to  hard-ware,  it  has  gone  so 
far  up  in  the  social  scale  that  now  even  the  stiff  poker 
and  tongs  are  quite  willing  to  keep  company  with  it. 

There  is  a  heavy  clatter  down  in  the  alleyway  now, 
for  the  city  carts  have  come ;  and  trudging  just  be- 
hind is  a  little  tatterdemalion  with  an  old  basket  on 
his  arm.  He  helps  the  men  put  back  the  empty  bar- 
rels, and  for  this  service  they  let  him  look  over  the 
rubbish  before  it  is  thrown  into  the  big  blue  carts. 
But  little  Rosa,  as  you  and  I  know,  has  already  had 
the  "  first  pick,"  of  five  barrels,  and  Billy  wonders  he 
doesn't  find  much  of  anything  for  a  while  but  bits  of 
coal  which  Rosa  hadn't  time  to  take.  Billy,  by  the 
way,  is  a  famous  little  coal  picker.  Down  by  the 
wharves  and  the  freight  depots,  he  finds  so  many 
pieces  that  he  doesn't  have  to  depend  upon  the  refuse 
of  ash  barrels ;  although  I  see  he  -is  very  ready  to 
take  whatever  he  caa  find  here. 

One  morning,  just  about  light,  there  was  an  alarm 


The  Litik  Ash  Pickers.  45 

of  fire  that  started  Billy  to  his  feet  at  once.  Now 
you  must  know  that  to  run  after  the  big  "  Steamer  " 
is  one  of  Billy's  greatest  delights ;  but  his  passion  for 
picking  up  coal  is  still  greater,  and  hose  wagon, 
steamer  and  all,  were  suddenly  deserted  that  morning 
for  a  tempting  '•  dump,"  that  caught  his  keen  eye  as 
he  scampered  down  the  street.  An  hour  later,  when 
the  firemen  came  back,  Billy's  old  basket  was  heaped 
to  the  brim,  and  I  don't  know  but  the  enterprising 
little  fellow  will  "  set  up  trade  "  for  himself,  since  he 
finds  he  can  sell  his  coal  for  twenty  cents  a  bushel. 

Perhaps  my  Wide  Awake  readers  are  wondering 
what  the  " dump"  is,  vthere  Billy  lays  in  his  stock. 

Down  by  the  Albany  depot,  in  various  vacant  lots 
throughout  the  city,  and  over  in  East  Boston,  there 
are  certain  places  where  the  city  carts  regularly  de- 
posit their  contents.  These  forlorn  heaps  of  debris 
are  the  so-called  '•'•dumps"  and  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren may  be  seen  busily  at  work  here  almost  any 
hour  of  the  day.  Some  collect  old  bones  that  they 
sell  at  half  a  cent  a  pound ;  others  take  only  paper 
rags ;  and  here  is  the  little  fellow  who  is  on  the  look 
out  for  bits  of  old  iron. 

It  is  curious  to  notice  how  much  honor  for  each 
other's  specialties  there  is  among  this  ragged  crowd. 
Every  bag  is  as  secure  from  pilfering  as  if  it  were  un- 


46  Child   Toilers. 

der  lock  and  key ;  and  any  man,  woman  or  child,  who 
dares  trespass  on  somebody's  else  " dump"  is  looked 
upon  as  no  better  than  a  sneak  and  a  thief. 

There  seems  to  be  scarcely  anything  in  these  mot- 
ley heaps  that  is  not  put  to  some  use.  Even  old  hair 
combings  are  straightened  out  and  made  into  puffs, 
curls,  frizzes,  and  —  nobody  knows  what !  Old  bot- 
tles find  a  market,  too,  and  bits  of  leather,  wood  and 
rope  are  always  carefully  gathered  up.  Sometimes, 
gold  and  silver  coins,  spoons,  forks,  rings,  watch- 
charms,  and  various  other  pieces  of  jewelry,  are 
found ;  but  it  is  not  often  that  such  articles  reach  the 
"dump"  even  when  through  carelessness  they  find 
their  way  into  ash  barrels. 

There  are  many  wonderful  stories  told ;  but,  after 
all,  it  is  by  the  careful  "  gathering  up  of  fragments  " 
—  not  by  any  special  "luck" — that  these  ash-pickers 
manage,  sometimes,  to  get  sixteen  and  twenty  dollars  a 
week  just  from  their  "  pickings  !  " 

In  a  single  season  nine  tons  of  coal  were  collected 
at  the  East  Boston  dumps,  and  this  is  but  one  item 
among  many. 

Here  is  a  ragged  old  man  with  his  wheelbarrow 
and  empty  bags  ;  let  us  follow  him  and  see  what  he 
will  find  to-day.  Little  Tommy,  only  nine  years  old, 
is  his  constant  companion,  and  I  don't  know  what 


The  Little  Ash-Pickers.  47 

the  old  man  would  do  without  the  bright  eyes  and 
nimble  fingers  of  this  tiny  boy. 

"  I  say,  daddy,  we'll  have  to  hurry,  for  I  can  hear 
the  big  carts  coming;  there's  lots  going  to  the 
'  dump '  to-day !  " 

"Pley?" 

And  the  old  man  puts  his  hand  to  his  ear  as 
Tommy  repeats  in  a  higher  sharper  key  the  warning 
words.  It  is  evident  he  hears  this  time,  for  the  jog 
trot  is  suddenly  quickened,  and  it  is  as  much  as 
Tommy  can  do  to  keep  pace  with  the  rattling,  squeak- 
ing wheelbarrow.  They  are  just  in  time  to  have  the 
first  "  haul,"  and  wit-h  miser-like  delight  the  old  man 
crams  into  one  bag  every  rag  and  scrap  of  paper  he 
can  find,  while  Tommy's  smutty  fingers  are  gathering 
up  the  coal. 

But  look !  there  is  still  another  bag  in  the  wheel- 
barrow —  yes,  two  more,  that  they  mean  to  carry  back 
"  chuck  full."  Into  one  goes  all  sorts  of  rusty  nails, 
old  screws,  broken  locks,  bits  of  wire,  iron  filings, 
etc. ;  into  the  other  is  crammed  anything  that  can  be 
converted  into  firewood,  such  as  old  cigar  and  fruit 
boxes,  pieces  of  rotten  shingles,  laths,  chips, — no 
matter  what,  so  long  as  it  can  come  under  the  head 
of  "kindlings." 

You  sec  the  old  man  understands  "  business;"  he 


48  Child  Toilers. 

sorts  out  his  findings  with  as  much  care  and  method 
as  a  salesman  arranges  his  new  goods  on  shelves  and 
counters.  A  sharp  cuff  on  the  ear,  and  Tommy  sud- 
denly remembers  that  he  has  made  a  mistake.  The 
old  man  has  found  two  iron  nails  in  his  "  paper  bag," 
and  such  carelessness  is  altogether  too  much  for  any 
ash-picker's  patience.  Tommy  hangs  down  his  head, 
whimpers  a  little,  and  then  goes  to  work  again  with 
tingling  ears,  but  a  better  memory. 

All' day  long  they  keep  at  work,  wheeling  the  bar- 
row back  and  forth,  till  it  grows  too  dark  to  pick  up 
even  coal.  And  when  I  tell  you  that  for  three  whole 
years  the  old  man  and  Tommy  have  worked  together 
in  this  way,  at  this  same  old  dump  in  East  Boston,  I 
think  you  will  understand  how  it  is  they  have  been 
able  not  only  to  earn  a  living  but  to  lay  up  pennies 
for  a  rainy  day. 

At  one  time,  the  neighbors  used  to  notice  a  little 
girl  in  man's  hat  and  coat,  who  worked  at  a  part  of 
the  dump  not  far  from  the  old  man  and  Tommy. 
Poor  child!  if  you  could  have  seen  her  and  the 
wretched  place  she  called  home,  I  know  you  would 
have  pitied  and  longed  to  help  her.  I  believe  she 
ran  away,  at  last,  from  the  cruel  woman  who  beat  her 
without  mercy,  and  drove  her  out  to  work  at  the 
"dump,"  no  matter  how  cold  or  how  stormy  the 
weather  might  be. 


THB  LITTLE  ASH-PICKER. 


Tue  Little  Ash  Pickers.  51 

Sometimes  the  truant  officers  find  dozens  of  chil- 
dren here  among  the  ash-heaps  in  school  hours ;  in- 
deed it  is  a  frequent  excuse  with  a  certain  class  when 
Ihey  are  late,  or  absent  from  school  for  a  number  of 
days,  that  they  "  hadn't  no  coal  t'home,  and  so  they 
had  to  go  to  the  "  dump"  There  is  one  little  girl, 
—  I've  forgotten  her  name  —  who  actually  picked  up 
all  the  coal  used  by  the  family  from  April  till  Novem- 
ber. 

Down  on  Church  Green,  on  the  right  hand  side  as 
you  leave  Summer  Street,  are  a  number  of  old  junk 
shops  that  are  well-  worth  a  visit.  Here  it  is  that 
many  of  our  little  ash  pickers  find  a  market  for  their 
"  treasures ; "  and  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  pict- 
ure of  one  just  as  I  saw  it,  not  a  great  while  ago. 

The  door  was  wide  open,  and  the  little,  dark,  low 
room  was  just  packed — way  to  the  ceiling  and  way 
to  the  sidewalk  —  with  all  manner  of  outlandish 
things.  There  were  all  sorts  of  broken  tools,  rusty 
bolts,  nuts,  chains,  parts  of  iron  railings,  old  kettles, 
pans,  horse  shoes,  etc. ;  then  there  were  great  tow 
bags  crammed  so  full  of  paper  rags  that  half  of  their 
many-colored  contents  were  scattered  on  the  floor, 
a.nd  thinking  of  the  mischief  a  single  match  might  do 
here  I  didn't  wonder  the  junk  dealer  had  hung  up 
in  a  conspicuous  place  the  warning  words,  "No 
smoking  allowed."  There  was  only  a  narrow  space 


52  did   Toilers. 

left  just  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  even  here 
you  could  scarcely  take  a  step  without  treading  upon 
something. 

A  short  distance  from  this  junk  shop  is  another, 
where  one  window  is  rilled  with  tailor  "chips,"  and 
reading  the  sign  over  the  door  you  will  see  that  this 
shop  makes  a  specialty  of  "paper  stock."  A  little 
farther  on  and  you  will  find  a  "Black  and  White 
Smith,"  whose  doorway  is  curiously  decorated  with 
old  iron  cables,  broken  anchors,  rusty  kettles,  pans, 
and  old,  old  things  I  had  never  seen  before  "  on  sea 
or  land." 

They  tell  me  these  old  junk  dealers  make  heaps  of 
money  out  of  the  seeming  rubbish  brought  to  them  by 
the  ash  pickers  ;  and  I  think  it  is  easy  to  understand 
when  we  consider  how  many  things  in  daily  use  are 
made  from  this  same  old  "junk." 

For  our  pretty  superfine  stationery,  our  books,  yes, 
even  the  pages  of  "  Wide  Awake,"  maybe,  are  made 
from  the  motley  "  paper  stock ; "  while  from  bits  of 
melted  glass  come  our  window  panes,  and  our  lamp 
shades  ;  and  as  to  the  old  rusty  metal,  why,  all  man- 
ner of  kitchen  furniture  is  made  from  that !  Truly 
the  little  ash-pickers  and  the  old  junk  dealers  ought 
to  have  their  reward,  for  they  help  not  a  little  in  car- 
rying out  that  twice-repeated  command  to  "gather  up 
the  fragments  that  nothing  may  be  lost." 


THE  FRUIT-VENDERS. 

SHE  was  selling  grapes  the  first  time  I  saw  her,  — 
great  purple  bunches  that  looked  so  tempting 
I  didn't  wonder  half  her  stock  was  gone,  though  it 
was  still  early  in  the  day.  Such  a  happy  face  as  it 
was  under  the  old  brown  hat !  It  had  been  a  very 
successful  day, and  little  Amelia  had  "good  news"  to 
carry  home. 

By-and-by  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all  about  her  home, 
her  good  auntie,  and  the  little  cousins  who  seemed  to 
her  like  brothers  and  sisters ;  but,  first  of  all,  I  want 
to  give  you  a  picture  of  little  Amelia  herself. 

Perched  on  her  rough  board  seat,  you  will  find  her 
almost  any  day  at  her  special  corner,  which  is  far 
down  on  "  new  "  Washington  Street. 

You  know  a  deal  is  said,  now-a-days,  about  the  "  nui- 
sance "  of  these  street  stands  ;  but  I  don't  believe  any 
skittish  horse  ever  took  fright  at  this  innocent  little 

53 


54 


Child  Toilers. 


fruit  tray.  O,  it  takes  up  such  a  "  wee  bit "  of  room 
at  the  broad  corner !  And,  as  to  interfering  with  the 
trade  of  the  big  fruit  stores  —  why  !  what  are  the  few 
cents  our  little  girl  earns  at  her  stand,  compared  to 
the  sales  made  every  day  by  confectioners,  corner 
grocers,  provision  merchants,  and  a  host  of  others 
who  do  not  call  themselves  "  fruit  dealers "  at  all  1 
O,  Consistency,  thou  art  a  jewel,  a  rare  jewel ! 

But  little  Amelia  doesn't  mean  to  borrow  any 
trouble.  Nobody  disturbed  her  yesterday,  and  no- 
body has  disturbed  her  to-day.  Really,  that  tip  end 
of  Washington  and  Elm  Streets  seems  as  much  her 
very  own  as  if  she  had  in  her  pocket  the  "  warranty 
deed"  for  it,  all  signed  and  witnessed. 

"  And  a  very  good  corner  it  is,"  she  says  to  her- 
self, remembering  how  many  people,  on  their  way  to 
the  Boston  and  Maine  depot,  stop  just  here  for  a  half 
dozen  oranges,  a  couple  of  lemons,  or  a  nice  ripe  ba- 
nana to  eat  on  the  way. 

Sometimes,  she  can  make  five  dollars  a  week,  but 
that  is  only  when  the  weather  is  fine. 

Come  with  me  away  down  to  the  North  End  and  I 
will  show  you  what  becomes  of  all  those  precious  pen- 
nies that  little  Amelia  picks  up  at  the  "  corner." 

Such  a  rickety  id  tenement  house  as  it  used  to 
be !  But  now,  a  >ore  manly  landlord  has  cleansed 


The  Fruit-  Venders.  5  5 

and  put  into  repair  this  miserable  building,  and  we 
need  not  be  afraid  to-day  to  go  up  the  new  clean 
stairway.  Two  rooms,  as  neat  as  neat  can  be,  with  a 
few  pictures  on  the  four  walls,  —  the  commonest  of 
prints  to  be  sure,  but  pretty  pictures  for  all  that ;  a 
nicely  scoured  floor,  a  few  hard  chairs,  and  a  bed  in 
one  corner  of  the  larger  room  where  Amelia's  uncle, 
a  helpless  cripple,  lies  all  day  long.  This  is  the  home 
to  which  our  little  fruit  girl  is  so  eager  to  carry  the 
news  of  a  successful  day.  Her  own  father,  in  a  fit  of 
despondency,  shot  himself ;  and  then  there  followed 
long  weary  days  and  weeks  when  the  poor  mother, 
utterly  discouraged  and  heart-broken,  grew  paler, 
thinner,  weaker,  until  at  last,  death  came  with  its 
longed-for  rest,  and  little  Amelia  was  left  without  fa- 
ther or  mother —  all  alone  in  the  wide  world! 

Well,  the  good  auntie,  who,  with  a  helpless  hus- 
band and  four  little  children  dependent  upon  her, 
had  found  ways  and  means  to  care  for  her  sick  sis- 
ter, now  opened  heart  and  home  to  poor  little  Amelia. 

So,  ever  since  her  mother's  death  she  has  never 
known  what  it  was  to  be  without  some  one  to  love 
and  care  for  her,  and  that,  I  think,  is  one  secret  of 
her  bright  happy  face ;  for,  if  there  is  only  "  love  at 
home,"  we  can  always  work  with  a  light  heart  and 
willing  hands. 


56  Child  Toilers. 

This  fruit  stand  that  Amelia  and  her  auntie  tend 
alternately,  is  the  sole  means  of  support  of  the  whole 
family.  And  when  we  stop  to  think  of  the  seven  hun- 
gry mouths  to  feed,  and  the  rent  —  not  less  than  eight 
dollars  a  month — that  must  be  paid  for  their  rooms 
down  on  Mechanic  Street,  it  is  very  easy  to  see  what 
becomes  of  all  the  bright  pennies. 

Such  a  brave,  cheerful  spirit  as  this  noble-hearted 
woman  has  shown,  ever  since  the  sad  accident  that 
crippled  her  hard-working  husband.  He  was  a  gar- 
dener, she  tells  me,  upon  a  gentleman's  place  in  Som- 
erville,  and  one  day  when  pruning  trees,  he  fell  in 
such  a  way  upon  the  sharp  instruments  that  his  spine 
was  very  badly  hurt.  That  was  four  or  five  years 
ago  and  he  has  not  been  able  to  do  a  day's  work 
since,  —  indeed,  I  doubt  if  he  is  ever  able  to  do  any- 
thing more,  —  but  patient  Mrs.  Vicarro  never  com- 
plains of  her  hard  lot. 

"God  has  taken  care  of  us,"  she  says,  "and  I  am 
just  as  sure  as  can  be  He  always  will !  " 

To  give  her  husband  eveiy  possible  comfort  and  to 
keep  a  pleasant  home  for  the  little  ones,  has  been  her 
chief  desire,  and  she  has  worked  hard  to  obtain  it. 
At  first,  she  took  in  washing  and  ironing,  but  that  was 
never  so  profitable  as  the  fruit  stand  has  been.  For, 
among  the  Italians  in  Boston  there  are  a  number  who 


The  Fruit-  Venders.  57 

are  able  to  club  together  and  obtain  large. quantities 
of  fruit  at  very  low  prices. 

The  shrewdest  one  in  the  little  circle  is  deputed  to 
make  the  daily  purchase.  Much  of  the  fruit  is  ob- 
tained directly  of  the  importers  at  the  wharves,  who 
carefully  assort  it ;  that  which  is  likely  to  keep  only 
a  short  time,  being  sold  to  the  agents  of  the  street 
venders  at  far  lower  prices  than  the  fruit  stores  pay 
for  the  carefully  selected  fruits. 

North  Market  Street  is  also  a  busy  scene  early  in 
the  morning,  many  of  the  little  fruit-sellers  resorting 
thither  to  buy  their  daily  stock-in-trade. 

"  And  I've  always  found  good  friends,"  says  Mrs. 
Viccaro,  whose  cheery  face  fairly  beamed  as  she 
told  me  how  they  had  been  helped  over  the  "  hard 
places." 

As  I  write,  another  picture  comes  up  before  me. 

It  is  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  a  ray  of  the  bright 
golden  sunset  streams  into  the  narrow  court  and  rests 
lovingly  upon  a  rough  box  of  house  plants,  high  up 
on  the  brick  wall.  In  one  window  is  a  large  English 
ivy,  so  green  and  thrifty  I  know  its  owner  loves  and 
cares  for  what  is  beautiful,  but  with  this  exception 
just  see  how  forlorn  and  dreary  it  is  —  this  misera- 
ble, filthy  Court ! 

There   are  all   sorts   of    broken   things   scattered 


58  Child  Toilers. 

about,  and. in  one  corner  an  old  umbrella  man  is  look- 
ing- over  his  "  stock  in  trade."  Babies  in  arms,  and 
little  creatures  just  big  enough  to  toddle  about,  crowd 
together  upon  the  dirty  steps,  while  their  mothers 
strive  to  catch  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  and  do  their 
week's  mending  at  the  same  time.  Old  grand- 
mothers are  here,  too,  with  funny  looking  caps ;  and 
out  of  every  window,  almost,  there  are  two  or  three 
unkempt  heads  peering  down  on  the  scene  below. 

And  oh,  such  a  jabbering  from  top  to  bottom  !  Of 
course,  it  is  all  in  Italian ;  even  the  babies  don't  seem 
to  cry  like  other  children.  And  there  is  one  little 
black-eyed  morsel  with  arms  and  feet  strapped  down 
to  a  board  —  like  an  Indian  pappoose,  I  was  going  to 
say ;  but,  dear  me,  it  looks  more  like  an  Egyptian 
mummy ! 

"  Her  make  straight,"  says  the  proud  little  mother 
in  broken  Italian. 

The  baby  looks  up  at  us  with  eyes  so  big  and  so 
black  and  so  round  and  so  wise  that  we  haven't  a 
word  to  say.  But  when  little  Rosanna  comes  run- 
ning to  us  with  her  basket  of  fruit,  we  can  better  un- 
derstand what  makes  the  ten-year-old  child  so  very 
small  and  slight  for  her  age.  And  did  you  ever  see 
an  Italian  boy  or  girl  that  was  not  under  size  ?  Poor 
little  creatures !  This  curious  custom  may  possibly 


LITTLE  AMELIA. 


.  The  Fruit-  Venders,  6 1 

*• 

help  to  make  them  straight  and  supple,  but,  hindering 
all  muscular  movement  for  months  and  months,  how 
it  must  retard  their  growth  and  strength  in  every 
way. 

Rosanna  Vorpiano !  Isn't  that  a  musical  name  ? 
And  doesn't  the  child  look  as  if  she  had  just  stepped 
out  of  a  "genre"  picture?  Her  old  checked  ging- 
ham dress  is  partly  covered  by  a  little  apron,  tied  be- 
hind with  an  old  shoe-string;  and  the  buttons  on  her 
dress,  as  diverse  in^  color  and  __  shape  as  "  Joseph's 
coat,"  give  a  very  funny  effect  as  she  turns  suddenly 
round  into  the  broad  light.  It  is  a  warm  day,  but  she 
has  thrown  over  her  tight  jet  braids  an  old  knitted 
hood  —  black  and  purple,  —  and  the  frizzy  curls  that 
blow  about  her  forehead  look  like  so  many  imps  that 
have  come  out  to  frolic  with  her  roguish  black  eyes. 

As  she  stands  there,  leaning  against  the  steps  with 
that  old  basket  on  her  arm,  half-filled  with  bright  red 
apples,  I  long  to  put  her  upon  canvas.  ^ 

She  has  made  fifty  cents  to-day,  — can't  you  hear 
the  dimes  jingling  in  her  pocket,  —  and  to-morrow  she 
means  to  start  very,  very  early  to  market. 

Up  and  down  Tremont  and  Washington  Streets, 
through  Temple  Place,  Winter,  Bromfield  Street, — 
up  long  flights  of  stairs  into  offices  and  "  composing 
rooms,"  and  into  scores  of  close  rooms  that  swarm 


62  Child  Toilers.    . 

with  heated  and  thirsty  toilers,  —  wherever  she  can 
find  a  customer  —  little  Rosanna  goes,  up  and  down, 
up  and  down,  all  day  long.  She  doesn't  aspire  to  a 
"  stand  "  yet ;  thinks  she  would  like  to  go  to  school ; 
but  I'm  much  afraid  this  roving  sort  of  street-life 
will  bring  out  all  the  "  gypsey  "  in  our  little  Italian 
girl  and  utterly  unfit  her  for  any  kind  of  study. 

Oh !  there  is  so  much  want  and  suffering  all  about 
us  !  Do  my  "  WIDE  AWAKE  "  readers  realize,  I  won- 
der, how  many  of  their  brothers  and  sisters  are  toiling, 
all  day  long,  just  for  a  place  to  lay  their  head  and  a 
bit  of  bread  to  eat !  Amelia  and  Rosanna  are  not 
imaginary  characters,  —  what  I  have  told  you  about 
them  is  true  all  through  !  —  and  then  there  are  so 
many  others  like  them !  Alike,  and  yet  different, 
too ;  for  each  of  the  three  hundred  fruit  stands,  scat- 
tered about  our  Boston  streets,  and  every  little  basket 
peddler,  have  a  story  "  all  their  own." 

And  did  you  ever  notice  what  a  variety  there  is  in 
the  stands  themselves  ?  Sometimes  you  will  find 
them  nicely  painted,  — green  seems  to  be  the  favor- 
ite color  —  and,  very  often,  the  tray  is  placed  on 
wheels  so  that  it  can  be  easily  carried  about.  Then 
there  is  the  big  broad  basket  with  its  flat  cover  that 
serves  for  a  table,  while  the  under  part  is  used  as  a 
sort  of  refrigerator.  This  is  certainly  more  picturesque 


The  Fruit-  Venders.  63 

than  the  wooden  tray,  but  I  don't  believe  it  is  half  as 
convenient. 

One  day  I  watched  with  a  deal  of  interest  the 
"  setting  up  of  a  stand  "  on  the  Common.  It  was  a 
very  modest  affair  —  two  little  saw-horses,  and  just 
a  rough  board  thrown  across,  —  but  everything  was 
arranged  in  "  apple  pie "  order.  There  was  a  nice 
white  cloth  to  cover  the  uneven  planks,  and  then,  one 
after  another,  the  little  hand  baskets  were  emptied  of 
their  contents.  Of  course,  every  apple  and  pear  was 
duly  polished  with  a  bit  of  rag  before  it  was  laid  on 
the  cloth ;  and,  somehow,  the  biggest  and  fairest  al- 
ways found  their  way  to  the  top. 

At  the  main  entrance  to  the  Common,  on  Charles 
Street,  is  an  old  woman  whose  weather-beaten  face 
shows  a  long  apprenticeship  in  that  trade.  On  cold 
days  she  protects  herself  from  the  bleak  east  winds 
by  a  wide  long  strip  of  black  enamel  cloth,  which  she 
fastens  to  the  high  fence  just  behind  her ;  and  a  very 
nice  background  it  makes  for  her  odd  little  stand  and 
her  picturesque  self.  As  the  weather  changes  from 
biting  cold  to  scorching  heat,  old  umbrellas  are  sub- 
stituted; but,  no  matter  what  the  season  may  be, 
our  fruit  venders  .will  always  be  found  at  their 
posts. 

To  the  passers-by,  it  may  seem  an  idle,  romantic 


64  Child   Toilers. 

sort  of  life ;  but  they  know  nothing  of  the  hard  labor 
done  at  home,  night  and  morning,  to  give  this  leisure 
through  the  day.  In  little  baskets  and  crates  and 
carts  and  wheelbarrows,  all  the  unsoM  fruit  is  carried 
home  every  night ;  and  every  morning  it  must  be  car- 
ried to  the  "  stand,"  and  polished  and  re-arranged. 
And  many  are  the  stockings  and  mittens  that  have 
been  knit  by  these  indefatigable  little  women,  while 
waiting  for  customers. 

The  constant  exposure  to  all  sorts  of  weather  ren- 
ders the  fruit-vender's  life  anything  but  a  desirable 
one  ;  still,  to  a  large  class  of  deserving  poor,  it  offers 
one  means  of  earning  an  honest  livelihood.  And, 
while  these  modest  little  stands  do  not  interfere  with 
public  travel,  it  does  seem  as  if  our  good  city  ought 
both  to  protect  and  to  patronize  them. 


THE  BOOTBLACKS. 

"T_T  AVE  a  '  shine,'  mister  ?     Only  five  cents ! " 

A  A  It  is  a  very  small  voice  from  a  very  small 
boy,  and  there,  is  such  a  crowd  hurrying  to  and  fro 
that  little  Fred  can  hardly  make  himself  heard. 

But  he  has  his  regular  customers  who  know  just 
where  to  find  him  and  who  pay  him  twenty-five  cents 
a  week.  And  then  that  particular  corner  of  his,  down 
on  Hanover  and  Blackstone  Streets,  is  such  a  good 
stand  that  the  little  fellow  seldom  fails  to  earn  forty 
or  fifty  cents  each  day.  Sometimes,  on  Sundays,  he 
can  make  from  a  dollar  to  a  dollar  and  a  half ;  but 
then  these  are  always  considered  "  red  letter  days  " 
for  the  whole  bootblack  brigade. 

Paul,  an  older  brother,  has  a  stand  on  Causeway 

65 


66  Child  Toilers. 

Street,  and  you  would  have  laughed  to  see  how  the 
two  boys  managed  when  they  first  "  set  up  trade." 

Of  course  there  were  the  license  papers  and  the 
bright  silver  badges  (just  like  the  newsboys'  I  told 
you  about )  that  they  had  to  get  from  the  city.  But 
then,  there  was  a  great  deal  more  to  be  done  before 
they  were  ready  to  give. their  customers  a  "shine." 

A  rough  pine  box,  — that  was  the  beginning  of  the 
"  stock  in  trade  "  —  and  since  they  both  wanted  one 
the  two  boys  started  off  together. 

"  I  say,  Fred,  let's  go  down  to  the  '  tobaker '  store 
on  Causeway  Street,"  suggested  bright,  black-eyed 
Paul.  "  Mebbe  we'll  find  something  there !  " 

"  All  right ! "  shouted  Fred.  "  And  lookee  here  — 
why  not  take  a  big  long  feller  and  go  halves  ?  " 

Now,  it  does  seem  strange  that  an  empty  box 
should  have  cost  the  boys  a  single  penny,  but  I  know 
they  had  to  pay  ten  cents  for  the  particular  piece  of 
lumber  Fred  selected ;  and  when  they  had  sawed  it 
in  two,  the  next  thing  in  order  was  to  have  a  wooden 
shoe,  or  rather  a  "  last,"  put  upon  each  half. 

With  a  good  box  of  carpenter's  tools  they  might, 
perhaps,  have  done  the  work  themselves  ;  but  to  try 
it  with  a  jack-knife  was  about  as  hopeless  a  job  as  the 
old  woman  undertook  when  she  tried  to  whittle  down 
a  crow-bar  into  a  knitting-needle.  Lo,  another  ten 


The  Bootblacks,  67 

cents  —  or  rather  twenty  cents,  for  you  see  there  were 
two  boxes  to  be  mounted,  —  was  paid  to  the  old  shoe- 
maker who  had  done  the  job  for  other  bootblacks, 
dozens  of  times  before. 

"Ain't  it  nice,  though?"  exclaimed  Paul,  as  he 
drew  his  little  brown  hand  over  the  smooth  white 
last. 

And,  really,  it  did  begin  to  look  like  business  when 
the  boys  fastened  the  leather  straps  to  their  neat 
little  boxes,  slung  them  across  their  shoulders,  and 
marched  down  Hanover  Street  merrily  whistling 
"  Mulligan  Guards." 

Now,  for  the  blacking.  Should  they  patronize  Bix- 
by,  Day  &  Martin,  or  that  new  firm  with  the  unpro- 
nounceable name  ?  It  was  a  hard  question  to  de- 
cide j  but  as  Fred  insisted  that  the  latter  was  the 
best,  —  all  the  boys  said  so !  —  Paul  yielded  the  point, 
and  for  three  cents  each  the  boxes  of  blacking  were 
bought  and  pocketed. 

"A  '  dauber,'  next !  hurrah  for  a '  dauber ' !  "  shouted 
Paul. 

"  And  a  '  shiner,'  too  !  "  added  Fred,  as  they 
counted  out  the  last  of  the  bright  pennies  their  fond, 
hard-working  mother  had  given  them  for  "  capital." 

"  Dear  me  !  it  will  take  every  one,"  sighed  Paul ; 
''  but  then,  we  must  have  'em  ! " 


68  Child  Toilers. 

"  Of  course  we  must !  "  echoed  Fred.  "  And  then, 
you  see,  they'll  last  —  O,  forever !  " 

Paul,  however,  examines  the  brushes  very  carefully 
before  parting  with  those  precious  pennies.  "For 
sometimes,  you  know,"  he  whispered  to  Fred,  "  they 
do  cheat  a  feller  awfully  with  old  moth-eaten  things." 

Forty  cents  for  the  "  shiner,"  a  few  cents  less  for 
the  "  dauber,"  and  now  their  stock  in  trade  is  com- 
plete. No,  not  quite ;  for  they  must  each  have  a 
bit  of  carpeting,  the  careful  mother  says,  to  save  the 
knees  of  their  trowsers.  This,  however,  needn't  cost 
them  a  penny,  for  she  has  found  two  strips  that  will  be 
just  the  thing.  Yes,  and  here  are  two  little  over- 
alls, dark  blue  and  snuff  brown,  that  they  can  draw 
right  over  their  jackets.  Dear  me !  how  I  wish  all 
our  little  bootblacks  had  good  thoughtful  mothers 
like  Mrs.  Anato. 

But  Fred  and  Paul  are  more  highly  favored  than 
most  of  their  comrades.  In  spite  of  poverty,  they 
have  a  home  and  a  father  and  mother  to  love  and 
care  for  them ;  while  here  is  Antonio  Deveroni, 
brought  up  in  a  bar-room  ;  and  little  Frank  Donclaro, 
whose  mother  is  dead  and  whose  father  is  just  a 
wretched  drunkard. 

I  want  to  tell  you,  by  the  way,  more  of  Antonio ; 
and  if  you  would  like  to  know  how  he  looks,  just 


The  Bootblacks.  69 

imagine  Dickens'  "Fat  Boy,"  with  jet-black  hair 
banged  over  his  forehead,  and  those  great,  liquid, 
Italian  eyes,  that  have  just  about  the  same  expression 
in  them,  as  a  big  Newfoundland  dog's.  Antonio's 
stand  for  blacking  boots  is  down  on  South  Market 
Street,  and  his  home  is  in  Ferry  Court.  But  I  always 
think  of  him  just  as  I  saw  him  at  the  North  Margin 
Street  school. 

He  was  nearly  an  hour  late,  and  came  creeping 
—  or  rather  rolling  in,  —  with  a  downcast,  crestfallen 
look. 

"  Job ! "  was  the  only  excuse  he  had  to  offer, 
and  I'm  afraid  it  wasn't  any  excuse  at  all ;  for,  if  he 
began  sawing  wood  at  eight  o'clock  as  he  said,  there 
was  no  reason  in  the  world  why  he  couldn't  have  left 
off  when  school-time  came.  The  truth  is,  he  is  a  lazy 
boy  and  doesn't  like  to  study.  But  the  few,  firm, 
kind  words  from  Mr.  Wright,  the  city  officer,  who 
was  waiting  for  the  tardy  boys,  did  far  more  good  than 
any  amount  of  scolding  or  whipping  could  have  done. 
And  I  don't  believe  Antonio  will  be  "  behind  time  " 
again,  for  a  very,  very  long  while. 

Stupid  and  indolent,  he  is  withal  so  good-natured, 
kind-hearted  and  generous,  that  he  is  a  great  favorite 
with  the  boys  ;  and  really,  there  is  the  making  of  a 
noble  man  in  Antonio.  But,  oh  dear  !  that  dreadful 
liquor  saloon  down  in  Ferry  Court !  Just  as  soon  as 


70  Child  Toilers. 

he  is  out  of  school  and  back  from  work,  his  father 
makes  him  tend  at  the  bar,  and  unless  some  kind 
Providence  interferes,  I'm  afraid  the  poor  boy,  so  ea- 
sily influenced  by  good  or  evil,  will  be  dragged  down 
into  what  the  sailors  call  the  "Black  Sea.:) 

Henry  Gardella,  the  fine,  manly  boy  who  sits  near 
Antonio,  has,  I  am  glad  to  say,  far  better  influences 
thrown  about  him.  When  he  came  into  the  school, 
some  five  years  ago,  he  didn't  know  his  letters.  And 
he  was,  moreover,  such  a  wee  bit  of  a  boy  that  to 
reach  the  platform  his  teacher  didn't,  to  be  sure,  put 
him  into  a  pint-pot  —  like  the  little  man  in  Mother 
Goose, — but  she  did  perch  him  upon  a  big  wash-basin 
turned  upside  down.  Now,  he  measures  nearly  six 
feet. 

I  do  wish  you  could  hear  him  recite  a  lesson  in  ge- 
ography. You  see  he  has  come  right  from  his  stand 
at  the  Crawford  House,  and  his  smutty  face  and 
hands,  his  soiled  shirt-sleeves,  and  old  faded-out  over- 
"alls  are  anything  but  becoming.  Never  mind  !  He 
knows  all  about  Asia  Minor,  can  name  all  the  rivers 
in  Europe,  tell  you  the  latest  source  of  the  Nile,  rat- 
tle off  the  lakes  of  British  America,  bound  all  the 
Western  territories,  and  —  well !  tell  you  just  about 
everything  in  geography  that  you  don't  quite  exactly 
remember  yourself. 

And   just  think,  my  little  WIDE    AWAKE  scholars, 


A  BOOT-BLACK. 


The  Bootblacks.  73 

how  very  few  advantages  these  poor  boys  can  have. 
Two  hours  of  study  each  day  through  the  school 
year,  —  that  is  all,  —  and  very  few  can  have  even  this 
after  they  are  fifteen.  For  the  licenses,  making  this 
time  in  school  one  of  the  most  important  conditions, 
are  usually  granted  to  boys  between  the  ages  of  "ten 
and  fifteen.  After  this,  the  newsboys,  the  bootblacks, 
and  the  little  street  peddlers,  generally  learn  a  trade 
or  take  up  some  kind  of  work  that  hinders  any  more 
school  attendance. 

Such  a  ragged,  dirty,  little  crowd  as  they  are,  this 
score  or  more  of  bootblacks,  that  daily  gather  in  the 
small  school-room  on  North  Margin  Street!  It 
seems  hardly  large  enough  for  newsboys,  peddlers  and 
all ;  but  as  the  school  has  two  sessions,  part  come 
from  nine  to  eleven  in  the  morning,  and  the  other 
half  from  one  to  three  in  the  afternoon. 

Looking  into  their  brown  faces  and  great  black 
eyes,  you  don't  need  to  hear  the  strange  outlandish 
names  that  show  their  Italian  parentage.  But  I  think 
it  is  a  little  curious  that  while  our  newsboys  are 
made  up  of  Germans,  Irish  and  Americans,  as  well 
as  Italians,  these  little  bootblacks  are,  every  one  of 
them,  Italian  boys.  To  be  sure,  the  whole  brigade 
numbers  only  forty  here  in  Boston,  where  our  news- 
boys count  up  to,  at  least,  three  hundred ;  but  since 


74  Child  Toilers. 

boot-blacking  is,  on  the  whole,  so  profitable,  I  wonder 
some  of  our  enterprising  little  German,  Irish,  or  Yan- 
kee boys  have  not  taken  up  the  business. 

Upon  an  average,  Fred  and  Paul  can  each  earn 
four  dollars  a  week ;  while  it  is  seldom  that  a  news- 
boy can  make — even  when  including  the  extra  Sun- 
day sales  —  more  than  three  dollars.  Still,  the  boot- 
black trade  isn't  quite  so  steady  as  the  selling  of 
newspapers ;  for  through  the  winter  months  the  little 
fellows  have  but  few  customers  ;  and  if  they  were 
not  allowed  to  take  up  "  inside  jobs,"  many  of  them 
would  find  it  hard  to  make  a  living. 

The  licenses  given  to  bootblacks  by  the  city  gov- 
ernment, always  assign  the  places  for  their  stands ; 
and  they  are  not  allowed  to  make  any  change  unless 
by  special  permit.  But  if  they  are  quiet  and  well-be- 
haved, no  objection  is  made  to  their  stepping  into  of- 
fices, saloons,  depots,  or  hotel  entrances  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  their  stands  ;  and  it  is  in  such  places  that 
the  little  bootblacks  find  a  good  many  extra  jobs,  even 
in  stormy  weather. 

Years  ago,  the  boys  used  to  get  ten  cents  a  shine, 
but  there  has  been  so  much  competition  since  the 
"  high-toned  "  stands  made  their  appearance  that  no 
one  will  pay,  nowadays,  more  than  five  cents  a 
shine. 


The  Bootllacks.  75 

Perhaps  you  are  wondering  what  the  "  high-toned 
stands  "  may  be.  Well,  it  is  an  odd  name  to  give 
them,  but  that  is  what  the  little  fellows  call  those  big 
stands* with  the  comfortable  arm-chairs  and  the  patent 
iron  foot-rests,  where  grown-up  men  do  the  "  shining." 
Many  crippled  soldiers  make  a  living  in  this  way ;  and 
on  Court  Street,  at  Boylston  Market,  in  numerous  al- 
ley ways,  on  the  Common,  —  indeed,  all  through  the 
city  you  will  find  the  "  high-toned  "  establishments  of 
these  dangerous  rivals  in  trade. 

The  little  fellows  look  with  wistful  eyes  upon  the 
grand  "  out-fit "  that  must  have  cost  "  such  heaps  of 
money."  But  if  they  can't  give  a  comfortable  seat  to 
their  customers —  what  of  that  ?  It  isn't  a  chair  and 
patent  foot-rests,  but  just  a  pair  of  clean,  highly-pol- 
ished boots  that  is  wanted. 

It  might,  perhaps,  console  our  little  Boston  boot- 
blacks if  they  knew  their  London  brothers  carried, 
just  as  they  do,  a  small  box  slung  across  their  shoul- 
ders which  contains  all  their  "  stock  in  trade." 

The  "  Ragged  School  Shoeblack  Societies  "  num- 
ber a  great  many  recruits  in  London,  and  you  can  al- 
ways tell  them  by  their  dark  gray  suits  piped  with  red, 
their  bright  jackets,  and  peculiar  caps  with  number 
.  and  badge  attached.  Since  the  "  brigade "  waa 
formed,  nine  hundred  thousand  dollars  have  been 


76  Child  Toilers. 

earned  by  these  enterprising  little  fellows,  and  I  don't 
doubt  but  that  our  Boston  bootblacks  are  doing  quite 
as  well  in  proportion  to  their  numbers. 

Rather  a  dirty,  disagreeable  trade,  my  WIDE  AWAKE 
readers  may  think  ;  but  let  us  not  forget  that  a  great 
part  of  Dickens'  early  life  was  spent  in  work  just  as 
lowly  as  this.  I  don't  know  that  he  ever  actually 
blacked  boots  for  a  living,  but  I  do  know  that  with 
other  poor  boys  ( in  ragged  aprons  and  paper  caps  ), 
he  used  to  paste  labels  upon  blacking  bottles. 

After  all,  it  isn't  so  much  what  we  do  as  how  we 
do  it ;  and  the  little  bootblack  who  does  his  work 
faithfully,  is  worthy  of  far  more  honor  than  the  better- 
dressed,  but  idle,  thoughtless  boys,  who  stoop  to  make 
fun  of  his  smutty  fingers. 


THE    FLOWER-VENDERS. 

BEAUTIFUL  Fresh  Pond — blue  and  sparkling  in 
the  summer  sunlight,  —  far  behind  the  city 
spires  and  the  glittering  dome  of  the  State  House, — 
and,  here,  just  in  the  fore-ground  of  our  picture,  five 
little  barefoot  boys  with  hats  thrown  back,  and  ragged 
pants  rolled  up  to  their  knees. 

"  My !  Ain't  it  nice  and  cool,  though ! "  exclaimed 
Tommy. 

"  And  ain't  them  lilies  just  '  stunners ' ! "  echoed 
little,  freckled-faced  Ned. 

They  have  had  a  long,  hot  tramp  from  the  city  this 
morning,  but  that  is  all  forgotten  now.  O,  that 
cool,  beautiful  water !  The  boys  are  almost  tempted 
to  take  a  "  plunge  " ;  but  time  is  precious,  pennies 
must  be  earned,  and  there  are  the  great  creamy  lilies 
all  ready  for  the  first  picker. 

77 


78  Child  Toilers. 

"  If  we  only  had  a  boat  now,"  sighs  little  Jack. 

"  Pooh !  who  wants  a  boat,  as  can  wade  like  a  duck ! 
Look'ee  here,  boys,  I'll  be  cap'n  and  you  foller ! " 
shouts  Tommy,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 

And  so  the  procession  moves  on,  with  many  fright- 
ened cries  from  little  Jack,  who  lags  behind,  and 
somehow  manages  to  fall  into  all  the  muddy  places  ! 
But  now  the  boys  are  knee-deep  in  the  water,  and  al- 
though the  very  biggest  lilies  and  the  very  pinkest 
buds  always  do  seem  to  be  just  out  of  reach,  and 
although  many  a  dainty  blossom  near  at  hand  snaps 
its  long  stem  in  the  pulling,  not  many  minutes  have 
passed  before  each  little  fellow  has  his  arms  full  of 
the  fragrant  "  water  queens." 

O,  how  fresh  and  pretty  they  are !  No  wonder 
the  sick  lady  who  sees  them  from  her  carriage  wants 
a  handful,  and  bids  her  coachman  call  the  boys. 
Tommy  is  the  first  to  hear  —  he  is  always  first  in 
everything !  —  and  before  the  other  boys  are  out  of 
the  water,  he  has  scrambled  through  the  bushes, 
reached  the  lady's  carriage,  and  sold  all  his  lilies,  at 
a  cent  apiece ! 

But  now  he  has  none  to  carry  back  to  the  city,  and 
.the  other  boys  —  a  little  jealous  of  Tommy's  success 
—  will  not  wait  for  him  to  gather  more.  The  little 
fellow,  however,  is  equal  to  the  occasion.  With 


The  Flower -Venders.  79 

twenty-five  cents  in  his  pocket,  he  fe.els  quite  rich 
enough  to  buy  at  wholesale  ;  and  since  "  a  bird  in  the 
hand  is  always  worth  two  in  the  bush,"  Ned,  Jack, 
Michael  and  Teddy  each  agree  to  sell  him  a  few  of 
their  lilies  at  a  very  low  figure.  So  the  bunches  and 
the  pennies  are  pretty  equally  divided,  and  the  five 
boys,  in  the  best  of  humor  again,  start  off  together  for 
the  city.  Oh  dear !  how  fast  the  beautiful  blossoms 
wither ! 

"  We'll  hev'  to  hev'  a  tub  or  a  pail  to  put  'em  in, 
just  as  soon  as  ever  we  can  !  "  says  little  Jack. 

"  Umph !  I  mean  to  sell  mine  'fore  they  need  a 
tub  !  "  says  Ned. 

"  So  do  I,  but  then  you  see  I  mightn't,  after  all ! " 
says  Jack,  who  has  a  large  bump  of  caution,  and  is 
rather  apt  to  look  upon  the  dark  side. 

The  boys  sell,  however,  a  few  more  of  their  lilies, 
on  the  way  back ;  and  when  they  separate  at  Bowdoin 
Square  little  Jack  feels  quite  encouraged.  He  and 
Ned  are  going  up  and  down  Washington  Street,  but, 
first  of  all,  he  runs  home  for  his  mother's  old  blue 
floor  pail. 

"  It'll  be  sort  o'  heavy  to  lug  about,  but  thin  I  know 
it'll  pay ! "  says  Jack  to  himself,  as  he  dips  the  droop- 
ing white  beauties  down  into  the  cool,  fresh  water. 
With  the  brightest  of  lily  smiles  they  thank  him,  and 


8o  Child  Toilers. 

everybody  that  passes  exclaims  at  their  beauty.  No 
fear,  little  Jack,  but  you  will  sell  all  your  lilies  to- 
day! 

Tommy  prefers  Tremont  Street.  It  was  down  by 
St.  Paul's  Church  that  I  first  saw  him,  but  that  was 
weeks  ago  when  the  trailing  arbutus  came.  With  an 
eye  to  effect,  he  had  fixed  his  little  bouquets  in  a 
fanciful  manner,  sticking  the  stems  through  the  iron 
fence,  so  that  only  the  pretty  pink  and  white  flowers 
in  their  evergreen  circle  could  be  seen. 

"  Fresh  Plymouth  May  flowers,  only  ten  cents  a 
bunch !  " 

Such  a  clear,  shrill  voice,  and  such  a  bright  little 
face  !  He  had  sold  a  dollar's  worth  already,  but  early 
in  the  day  the  bunches  had  brought  fifteen  and 
twenty  cents  apiece.  Then,  he  was  only  Mr.  Some- 
body's agent,  but  now  that  the  lilies  have  come  he  is 
selling  for  himself. 

"Yer  see,  m'am,"  he  exclaimed,  "May  flowers 
can't  be  got  round  here.  They  pick  'em  down  to 
Plymouth  and  the  Cape  —  where  the  pink  pond  lilies 
come  from,  yer  know, —  and  sometimes  they  git  a  few 
of  these  'butus  flowers  at  Marshfield  and  Scituate.  I 
s'pose  boys  there  git  five  cents  a  bunch  for  'em,  thin 
they're  sint  up  to  Boston  by  express,  all  wrapped  up 


The  Flower -Venders.  81 

in  cotton  ( the  flowers  I  mean  —  not  the  boys ! )  and 
the  big  florists  buy  'em." 

"  But  how  much  do  they  give  you  for  selling 
them  ? " 

"Oh!  that  depends!  If  we  sell  'em  for  twenty 
cents  a  bunch,  we  git  three  cents ;  two  for  fifteen, 
and  only  one-for  ten ! " 

But  little  Julie  Sullivan  managed  to  do  better  than 
this,  or  rather  her  brother  did  for  her.  I  wonder  if 
you  remember  Julie's  round,  freckled  face,  and  bright 
red  hair  !  She  was  standing  on  Winter  Street  near 
Music  Hall,  that  particular  afternoon ;  but  I  imagine 
she  travels  up  and  down  Washington  and  Tremont 
Streets,  too.  She  is  only  eight  years  old,  and  so  shy 
that  you  cannot  get  many  words  from  her. 

But,  by  numerous  questions,  I  find  she  lives  on  Es- 
sex Street,  that  her  father,  a  day  laborer,  had  his  hand 
badly  hurt  on  the  railroad  a  few  months  ago,  and  that 
she  and  her  brother  Jimmy,  who  is  a  few  years  older, 
are  doing  what  they  can  to  help  the  family.  The  boy 
had  been  to  the  Old  Colony  Depot  himself,  bought 
the  flowers  from  the  man  who  had  gathered  them  at 
Plymouth ;  and  he  and  Julie  were  selling  them  on 
the  street  at  lower  prices,  but  far  better  profits,  than 
keen  little  Tommy ! 


82  "    Child  Toilers. 

And  here,  by  the  way,  I  want  to  tell  you  something 
about  this  same  Jimmy  that  pleased  me  very  much. 
He  is  a  strong,  hearty  boy  —  not  handsome,  by  any 
means,  but  with  a  good,  honest  face  that  you  like  to 
look  at.  Just  beside  him  on  Winter  Street  that  day 
—  so  near  that  their  baskets  touched  —  stood  lame 
Johnnie  Collins. 

Both  boys  were  calling  out,  "  Nice  Plymouth  May 
flowers ! "  to  the  passers-by,  and  both  were  very  eager 
to  sell  their  bunches.  At  last,  a  lady  stopped  and 
looked  into  each  basket.  Timid  little  Johnnie  leaned 
forward  on  his  crutch,  anxious  to  sell,  if  possible ; 
and,  looking  at  Jimmy's  face,  I  saw  a  real  battle  was 
going  on,  though  he  said  not  a  word. 

The  lady  evidently  wanted  but  one  bouquet,  and, 
although  Jimmy's  flowers  were  equally  large  and 
fresh,  she  seemed  more  inclined  to  patronize  John- 
nie's basket.  Now,  instead  of  urging  his  own  flowers 
upon  the  lady,  as  I  am  very  sure  some  boys  would 
have  done,  Jimmy  at  once  devoted  all  his  energies  to 
the  selling  of  Johnnie's  bouquets. 

"  There,  mum,"  he  said,  pointing  to  one  of  the 
prettiest  bunches  in  the  lame  boy's  basket,  "that's 
only  ten  cents,  and  it's  rale  fresh,  mum  ! " 

Johnnie  looks  up  gratefully ;  and,  with  eager,  un- 


ONK  OF  THB  FLOWER  GIRLS. 


The  Flower -Venders.  85 

selfish  interest,  Jimmy  goes  on  to  tell  the  lady  how 
Johnnie  was  run  over,  down  by  the  Albany  Depot. 

"  Why,  mum  !  he  was  in  the  hospital  for  months ; 
and  he  hasn't  any  toes,  mum,  but  the  big  one,  on  that 
foot  as  is  left !  " 

Before  this  explicit  explanation,  however,  the  lady 
has  bought  Johnnie's  bunch  of  flowers,  and  has  prom- 
ised to  come  and  see  both  him  and  Jimmy. 

At  the  entrance  of  one  of  our  large  hotels  here  in 
Boston,  you  will  frequently  see,  at  noon,  and  early  in 
the  evening,  a  little  flaxen-haired  girl,  with  button-hole 
bouquets  to  sell.  She  is  rather  tall  of  her  age,  has  a 
sweet,  gentle  face,  and  looks  as  if  she  might  have  a 
story,  doesn't  she  ?  Well,  here  it  is,  just  as  little  blue- 
eyed  Mary  told  it  to  me  herself ;  and  though  it  does 
"  read  like  a  book"  I  find  it  all  true. 

"  I  was  nine  years  old,  m'am,  when  I  first  began  to 
sell  flowers ;  but  that  was  four  years  ago.  You  see 
we  were  very  poor.  Father  was  dead,  and  mother 
was  sick  in  bed.  I  was  the  oldest,  and  there  were 
lots  of  little  ones  younger  than  me.  One  day  mother 
was  sicker  than  usual,  and  we  hadn't  a  bit  of  coal  in 
the  house,  nor  anything  to  eat.  Mother  had  just 
twenty-five  cents  left  in  her  pocket-book  —  that  was 
all  —  but  I  happened  to  remember  how  an  aunt  of 


86  Child  Toilers. 

mine  used  to  make  a  good  deal  of  money  by  selling 
flowers.  So  I  asked  mother  to  let  me  take  the  quar- 
ter and  see  what  I  could  do  with  it.  Well,  she  let  me 
have  it,  and  I  went  right  to  a  florist  and  got  some 
flowers  —  it  don't  take  many,  you  know,  for  a  button- 
hole, just  a  little  bit  of  green  and  a  few  buds  are 
enough  —  and  then  I  went  around  to  the  St.  James 
and  some  other  hotels,  to  sell  them.  Folks  were  real 
kind,  m'am,  and  I  made  fifty  cents,  on  that  first  quarter ! 

"  Ever  since  then,  I've  kept  on  selling  flowers ;  I 
never  go  near  the  saloons,  m'am,  but  I  have  found 
good  sales  for  my  bouquets  at  the  large  hotels.  Now, 
I  always  come  here,  for  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
know  me,  and  do  a  great  deal  to  help  me.  Some- 
times, they  give  me  great,  beautiful  bouquets,  that  I 
can  make  up  into  lots  of  little  ones.  Here  are  some 
of  them,"  and  the  little  girl  showed  me  two  or  three 
dainty  little  bunches  —  a  pansy  and  white  pink  with  a 
bit  of  smilax  between  —  rosebud  and  heliotrope  bou- 
quets —  that  she  sold  at  fifteen  cents  apiece. 

"  They  used  to  give  me  nice  things,  too,  to  carry 
home  to  mother  —  pieces  of  chicken,  you  know,  and 
such  like  —  why !  there's  one  particular  place  in  the 
dining-room  now,  where  they  put  my  brown  paper 
bag ;  and  I'm  always  sure  to  find  it  full  when  I  go 
home  at  night !  Mother  died  last  winter  about  Christ- 


The  Flower -Venders.  87 

mas  time,  so  I  live  with  grandmother  now.  Usually, 
I  earn  about  six  dollars  a  week,  that  I  carry  home  to 
her,  but  sometimes  I  can  make  ten." 

Brave  little  Mary !  She  tells  her  story  in  the  sim- 
plest, most  unaffected  way;  but  I  know  that  for 
nearly  four  years  she  was  the  sole  support  and  com- 
fort of  that  poor  sick  mother,  and  those  little  helpless 
children ! 

Now  that  she  is  growing  into  her  teens,  I  wish  our 
little  flower-girl  might  have  some  better  field  of  labor 
opened  to  her.  I  fear  she  has  never  been  to  school 
much  —  her  opportunities  have  been  few  and  far  be- 
tween —  but  she  is  very  quick,  intelligent,  and  eager 
to  learn.  These  hotel  offices,  however  unexceptiona- 
ble they  may  be,  are  certainly  not  the  best  of  school- 
rooms ;  and  I  want  such  influences  thrown  about  our 
bright,  energetic  little  Mary  that  she  may  grow  up 
into  a  good,  noble,  useful  woman ! 

There  are  other  little  flower-sellers  that  I  might  tell 
you  about  —  the  "  Boston-rose-bud  "  boy  who  stands 
on  Winter  Street,  and  holds  an  odd  little  tray  all  full 
of  holes,  of  different  sizes,  into  which  he  tucks  his 
bouquets.  Sometimes,  he  has  pretty  little  bunches  of 
English  violets,  and  great  purple  and  gold  pansies ; 
but  "  rose  buds  "  seem  to  be  his  particular  specialty, 
and  he  sells  them  at  various  prices,  according  to  their 


88  Child   Toilers. 

size  and  variety.  Then,  in  the  depots,  at  the  ferries, 
in  the  cars,  at  the  entrance  of  concert  rooms  and  the- 
atres, you  will  find  these  little  flower-venders,  at  all 
most  any  season  of  the  year.  At  the  holidays,  and 
just  before  Easter,  they  sell  more,  perhaps,  than  at 
any  other  time ;  but  flowers  are  so  fashionable,  now- 
a-days,  at  all  sorts  of  entertainments,  that  the  trade 
in  them  is  really  very  good  all  through  the  year. 

There  are  about  one  hundred  florists  in,  and 
just  about,  Boston ;  and  boys  and  girls  are  frequently 
employed  by  them  in  picking  and  arranging  the  flow- 
ers. Very  few,  however,  send  children  upon  the 
street  to  sell  bouquets.  In  almost  every  instance, 
you  will  find  that  the  children  themselves  have 
bought  the  flowers  at  wholesale  prices,  and  so  sell  in- 
dependently of  the  florists. 


B 


THE  STREET  MUSICIANS. 

UT  we  must  hev  the  monish." 
That  was  what  the  old  Jew  said  when  Mr. 
Coles,  the  kind  city  officer  who  looks  after  these  little 
steeet-waifs,  took  the  child  home. 

You  see  he  had  found  Katrina  playing  upon  her 
violin  in  one  of  those  dreadful  bar-rooms  down  at  the 
North  End. 

I  don't  think  the  little  girl  knew  (when  she  stepped 
inside)  what  a  bad,  dangerous  place  it  was ;  she  only 
thought  of  the  pennies  the  rude,  drunken  men  had 
promised  her  —  those  bright,  beautiful  pennies  that 
would  save  her  from  cross  words  and  angry  blows 

when  she  went  home  at  night. 

89 


9°  Child  Toilers. 

Poor  little  Katrina  !  She  is  only  eleven  years  old 
yet  she  has  seen  more  of  life  —  and  the  dark  side  of 
it  too  —  than  many  thrice  her  age !  It  is  four  years 
since  she  came  from  Italy. 

"  When  we  lived  there,"  says  little  Katrina,  "  I  used 
to  carry  stones  and  mortar  on  my  head  to  the  men 
that  were  making  buildings.  They  paid  us  fifty  cents 
a  day,  and  lots  of  us  used  to  do  that  sort  of  work.  We 
lived  near  Naples,  and  I've  got  two  grandmothers 
and  one  grandfather  there  now  !  " 

"  And  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  to  Amer- 
ica?" 

"  Well,  father  came  over  first,  and  when  he  got 
back  he  said  I  must  learn  to  play  the  violin.  So  I 
took  lessons  three  months,  and  we  paid  the  man  that 
showed  me  how,  fifteen  dollars  —  five  dollars  each 
month." 

"  And  did  you  like  to  play  ?  "* 

"  Oh  !  ever  so  much  —  and  I  learned  to  sing  too  ! 
Then  father  bought  me  a  violin  —  I  guess  he  paid  fif- 
teen dollars  for  it  —  and  it  wasn't  long  after  that  we 
came  over  in  a  great  big  boat  *  I  liked  that !  " 

Little  Katrina's  black  eyes  sparkled  as  she  told 
about  that  long,  nice  ride  on  the  water.  Evidently, 
she  didn't  know  what  it  was  to  be  sea-sick. 

"We  stayed  in  New  York  a  while  after  we  landed  — 


The  Street  Musicians  91 

father,  mother  and  me.  I  couldn't  talk  English  then, 
but  I  learned  by  listening  real  hard." 

Katrina  talks  very  plainly  now,  only  hesitates  some- 
times in  getting  hold  of  the  right  word. 

"  Father  and  me  used  to  go  about  together,  he  with 
the  harp  and  I  with  the  violin.  Mother  don't  know 
how  to  play  nor  sing  either." 

"And  how  much  could  you  earn  in  this  way  —  you 
and  your  father  ? " 

"  Oh !  sometimes  fifty  cents  through  the  day,  and 
sometimes  a  dollar  or  a  dollar  and  a  half.  We  didn't 
stay  long,  though,  in  Ne,w  York  ;  we  lived  longest  in 
New  Haven.  Then  father  took  us  to  Portland,  but 
you  know  they  don't  have  saloons  there  :  so  we  couldn't 
get  much  money !  " 

An  honest  confession,  wasn't  it  ? 

"  But  does  your  father  let  you  go  into  saloons  to 
play  and  sing  ?  " 

"  He  don't  like  to  have  me  go  alone,  and  I  never 
stay  very  late  !  " 

Since  Mr.  Coles  found  the  child,  some  months  ago, 
she  has  attended  the  Cushman  school  pretty  regu- 
larly. The  father  found  to  his  astonishment  that  in 
the  good  city  of  Boston  he  had  no  right  to  send  his 
child  out  upon  the  street  in  school  hours.  Confirmed 
truancy,  like  confirmed  drunkenness,  is  a  culpable  of- 


92  Child  Toilers. 

fence ;  and,  according  to  Boston  laws,  children  that 
cannot  be  kept  in  school  are  sent  "down  to  the  Island  " 
for  terms  of  six  months  to  two  years,  according  to  the 
degree  of  offence. 

Little  Katrina,  however,  is  very  glad  to  go  to  school ; 
indeed,  it  is  the  exception  when  the  children  them- 
selves rebel  against  the  law. 

"  After  school  in  the  afternoon,"  says  our  little 
violinist,  "  I  generally  go  out  on  the  street  and  play 
until  eight  and  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Some- 
times I  go  alone  up  on  Beacon  Street ;  I  like  to  sing 
and  play  there.  Once  some  bad  boys  made  fun  of 
me,  but  I  spoke  just  as  cross  as  I  could  to  them,  and 
when  they  didn't  mind,  I  called  a  policeman !  " 

She  is  a  funny  little  thing  —  this  Katrina!  I 
think  Topsy  must  have  looked  somewhat  like  her, 
only  Katrina  has  an  olive  skin  and  Topsy's  was  jet 
black. 

Come  with  me,  little  WIDE-AWAKE  readers,  and  I 
will  show  you  another  picture. 

Isn't  it  a  funny-looking  court,  —  so  narrow  you  can 
touch  both  walls  as  you  pass  between  them  !  And 
isn't  this  an  odd-looking  building?  Why,  it  is  so 
crowded  and  wedged  In  it  makes  one  think  of  an  old 
tooth  that  ought  to  be  pulled  to  make  room  for  new 
ones  !  Up  a  few  steps,  down  a  few  more,  and  we 


The  Street  Musicians.  93 

come  to  a  little  room  that  seems  more  like  a  den  than 
anything  else.  Oh !  it  is  so  low  and  dark  and  damp. 

There  are  two  windows,  to  be  sure,  in  it,  but  they 
are  so  little  and  so  dusty  that  hardly  a  bit  of  light  comes 
through. 

At  one  an  old  man  with  grey  hair,  but  keen  black 
eyes,  sits  busily  at  work.  It  is  a  shoe-last  that  he  has 
in  his  hand,  and  under  the  table  is  any  quantity  of 
leather  clippings. 

Shoe-making  is  his  trade,  but  music  is  his  delight ; 
and  close  beside  the  table  is  his  harp  —  such  a  large 
one  that  it  almost  touches  the  low  ceiling !  On  the 
wall  hang  two  violins,  and  a  third  rests  upon  the  win- 
dow sill. 

Pictures  of  all  sizes,  and  all  colors  too,  are  tacked 
helter-skelter  between  the  windows  and  over  the  chim- 
ney-piece, while  just  above  the  door  hangs  an  old 
horse-shoe  —  for  luck,  you  know  ! 

Pasquale  is  not  at  home —  that  we  can  see  for  our. 
selves  —  but  the  old  father  would  like  to  explain  why. 

He  cannot  understand  our  English,  and  we  are 
equally  ignorant  of  his  rapid  Italian ;  but  —  and 
isn't  it  funny  and  foolish  ?  — we  all  begin  to  talk  louder 
and  louder,  as  if  by  this  means  we  may  at  last  come 
to  make  each  other  understand !  Finally,  with  a  laugh, 
we  give  it  up ;  but  the  old  man  takes  the  covering  off 


94  Child  Toilers. 

his  harp,  tunes  the  really  fine  instrument,  and  gives  us 
some  excellent  music. 

The  violins  belong  to  Pasquale,  and  his  father  is 
evidently  very  proud  of  his  little  son,  for  nearly  every 
thing  he  tries  to  tell  us  has  Pasquale's  name  in  it. 

Close  by  the  violin,  on  the  window,  is  a  large  toy- 
boat  very  nicely  made  and  rigged.  The  old  man 
nods  his  head  with  delight  when  we  notice  it.  Yes, 
it  is  Pasquale's  work,  no  doubt,  for  he  is  a  very  intel- 
ligent boy.  But  what  a  pity  he  is  not  at  home  to-day ! 
However,  we  may  find  him  on  the  street,  and  we  are 
very  glad  to  have  seen  just  where  and  how  he  lives. 

Pasquale  Carvalo  !  That  is  his  name ;  and  if  a 
black-eyed,  black-haired  boy  of  twelve,  with  a  fine, 
earnest  face,  happens  to  come  to  your  window  with 
his  violin,  give  him  a  few  pennies,  and  some  kind 
words  too,  for  Pasquale  needs  them  all.  He  is  doing 
wonderfully  well  in  his  studies  at  school,  and  if  right 
influences  are  only  thrown  about  him,  I  think  he  will 
make  a  fine  man. 

And  here  is  our  little  accordeon  boy,  Auguste  by 
name. 

I  first  met  him  in  a  horse-car,  and  his  little  brother 
was  with  him  that  day.  The  two  boys  had  been  out 
to  Brookline,  they  said,  and  had  made  fifty  cents  since 
they  left  home. 


AUGUSTS. 


Tlie  Street  Musicians.  97 

Many  children  in  our  city  learn  to  play  the  accor- 
deon ;  for  it  is  much  easier  to  learn,  and  the  instrument 
is  far  cheaper  than  the  violin.  Sometimes  you  hear 
it  well^played,  and  then  the  instrument  sounds  very 
sweetly ;  but  I  remember  two  little  girls,  ragged,  un- 
tidy children  they  were,  who  used  to  make  most  h6rri- 
ble  discords  upon  them.  And  then  when  they  tried  to 
sing,  too  —  why  !  everybody  in  the  neighborhood  ran 
to  their  windows  and  shut  them  down  with  a  bang ! 
The  children  had  mistaken  their  calling,  like  so  many 
other  people  in  this  big  world  of  ours. 

But  there  is  one  little  boy — I  have  not  seen  him 
a  lady  was  telling  me  about  him  —  who  has  such  a 
wonderful  voice  that  crowds  always  gather  when  he 
begins  to  sing. 

His  father  carries  a  hand-organ,  and  I  think  the 
little  fellow  plays  sometimes  on  a  tambourine.  But  it 
is  the  rare  singing  of  those  beautiful  Italian  airs  that 
brings  the  crowds  and  the  coppers  ! 

It  is  not  often  you  see  children,  or  women  either, 
with  hand-organs  —  the  instrument  is  too  heavy  to 
take  about ;  but  I  remember  a  woman  once  came  into 
our  street  with  a  hand-organ  fastened  to  a  wheel-bar- 
row, and  in  the  other  half  of  this  strange  turn-out  was 
a  basket,  and  in  the  basket  a  real  live  baby — just 
think  of  that !  And  just  think  of  being  lulled  to  sleep 


98  Child  Toilers. 

by  "Captain  Jinks"  and  "Molly  Darling "  ground 
into  one's  very  ears !  But  this  strange  baby  seems  to 
enjoy  it  —  don't  you  think  she  will  be  a  musical  won- 
der if  she  ever  lives  to  grow  up  ?  9 

But  the  monkeys  —  I  havent  told  you  a  word 
abo'ut  them,  and  they  are  most  important  personages 
among  our  street  musicians. 

Why,  yes,  indeed  !  don't  they  always  draw  the  big- 
gest crowds  and  haven't  I  seen  them  playing  on  tam- 
borines  and  fiddles  just  like  little  men  for  all  the  world  ? 

There  was  one,  I  remember,  dressed  just  like  a 
soldier  in  bright  scarlet  uniform.  He  had  a  sword  at 
his  side  and  a  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  —  yes,  and  he 
knew  how  to  use  them  too !  Of  course  he  danced, 
turned  somersets,  made  bows  to  those  who  had  any- 
thing to  give  him,  and  snapped  his  great  white  teeth 
if  anybody  scolded  him. 

Then  I  remember  seeing  another  that  was  taking 
real  comfort  "  in  his  own  house."  It  was  a  curious 
little  room  where  a  number  of  hand-organ  men  had 
congregated ;  and  while  the  master  was  taking  his 
lunch,  Mr.  Monkey  was  taking  his  ease,  now  resting 
upon  his  haunches,  now  eating  with  all  his  might,  and 
running  about  like  a  school-boy  let  loose  from  study. 

Oh,  dear  !  what  a  strange,  gypsey-sort  of  life  these 
street-musicians  have  to  follow !  Even  the  little  boot- 


The  Street  Musicians.  99 

blacks  look  down  upon  them  with  pity,  and  are 
ashamed  to  own  the  fact  if  they  have  ever  been  in  the 
business  themselves. 

It  may  do  very  well  for  monkeys,  but  I  heartily  wish 
there  was  not  a  child  in  our  city  who  had  to  earn  a 
living  in  this  wretched,  beggarly  way.  Will  the  good 
day  ever  come,  I  wonder,  when  street  musicians  will 
just  be  an  interesting  matter  of  history  ? 


THE  BALLOON  VENDERS. 

RED,  white  and  blue !  how  they  sway  in  the 
breeze,  and  how  they  glisten  in  the  sunlight ! 

Pedro  holds  them  high  up,  that  every  one  who 
passes  may  see  how  bright  and  pretty  they  are. 

He  is  standing  on  the  Common,  just  at  the  end  of 
the  long  flag-stone  walk  that  makes  a  diagonal  cut 
to  Boylston  Street  and  Park  Square. 

It  is  one  of  the  very  best  places  to  sell  his  bal- 
loons ;  for,  no  matter  what  time  of  day  it  is,  there 
always  seems  to  be  a  moving  crowd  just  here.  Some- 
times there  is  a  long  procession  to  and  from  the 
Providence  depot ;  and  then  a  great  many  people 
who  live  on  Columbus  Avenue,  Boylston  Street,  and 
the  Back  Bay,  find  this  particular  flag-stone  walk  the 
nearest  as  well  as  the  pleasantest  way  "  down  town." 

Yes,  indeed !  Pedro  had  a  good  eye  for  business 
when  he  chose  his  stand  right  here. 

"  Only  ten  cents  apiece  ! " 


The  Balloon  Venders.  101 

Grave  Papa  Randolph  has  just  come  from  his  law- 
office,  and  is  in  a  brown  study  over  some  puzzling 
"case  in  court,"  as  he  hurries  on  to  catch  the  train. 

But  Pedro  has  somehow  managed  to  catch  his  eye 
and  ear. 

The  children  !  —  why  !  he  had  nearly  forgotten 
them  !  But  here  are  these  bright  balloons  —  would 
it  be  possible  to  carry  them  home  ? 

Pedro  seems  to  read  his  thoughts,  for,  taking  out  of 
his  coat  pocket  a  little  flat  bag  with  a  bright  magenta 
tube  at  one  end  he  puts  it  to  his  mouth ;  and  in  a 
few  seconds  holds  up  to  the  light  the  pretty  red  bal- 
loon he  has  blown  up  so  quickly  from  what  seemed 
but  a  bit  of  brown  rubber. 

Another  second  —  the  big,  round  ball  goes  off  with 
a  sharp  whistle,  and  nothing  is  left  in  Pedro's  sun- 
burnt hand,  but  a  mass  of  wrinkled  gutta  percha ! 

The  grave  lawyer  looks  on  with  interest  —  he  likes 
to  sift  matters  to  the  bottom  —  and  Pedro  explains 
how  the  balloons  already  inflated  that  he  holds  up  on 
the  string  are  filled  with  hydrogen  gas,  but  are  not  a 
bit  better  or  stronger  than  those  blown  up  with  the 
breath. 

"  Only,  to  be  sure,  the  hydrogen  gas  does  make 
them  a  little  lighter,"  adds  Pedro  who  is  anxious  to 
tell  the  whole  truth. 


102  Child  Toilers. 

Papa  Randolph,  however,  is  satisfied  with  these 
convenient  little  empty  bags  that  can  be  blown  up 
with  the  breath,  and  stops  to  buy  a  white  one  for 
Maud,  a  blue  one  for  Tom,  and  a  red  one  for  Harry ; 
and  while  he  is  tucking  them  into  his  pocket  a  lady — 
somebody's  dear  mamma,  I  know,  —  is  asking  Pedro 
for  a  couple  more. 

Trade  is  brisk  to-day,  and  Pedro  will  have  to  get  a 
new  stock  of  balloons  by  afternoon.  Would  you  like 
to  know  just  where  he  goes  to  buy  them,  and  wouldn't 
you  like  to  see  how  the  pretty  little  things  are  made  ? 

Let  us  follow  him  as  he  saunters  down  Boylston 
Street.  -There !  he  is  just  turning  into  Carver  Street, 
and,  if  we  hurry  a  bit,  we  can  catch  up  with  him. 

Dear  me !  what  a  funny  little  doorway  it  is  where 
Pedro  says  we  must  stop.  I'm  going  to  write  down 
the  odd  sign  just  over  the  entrance,  for  it  is  a  genuine 
curiosity  in  the  way  of  spelling  and  punctuation. 
Here  it  is : 

ESTOUP  NOEL  &  Co. 
FRENCH  CUTLERY 

REPAIERD,  AT  SHORT,  NOTICE,  RAZARS 

put  in  order. 

ALSO  BALOON  MAKER. 


The  Balloon  Venders.  103 

The  sign  is  evidently  home  made,  and  is  painted 
in  red  and  black  letters  upon  a  white  ground,  so  that 
it  stands  out  in  bold  relief.  The  door,  or  rather  gate, 
is  very  low  and  very  narrow — we  will  let  Pedro  go 
first,  and  then  follow,  one  by  one. 

"  Bow  bow-wow  ! "  Why  !  what  is  this  ?  A  big, 
black  Newfoundland,  sure  enough,  and  I  do  believe 
Pedro  trod  upon  his  toes,  for  the  dog  and  the  kennel 
together  quite  fill  up  the  narrow  passage  way  !  There 
is  plenty  of  room  overhead,  though,  way  up  to  the 
sky  !  For  it  is  an  open  court,  and  looking  in  between 
the  old,  broken-down,  picturesque  buildings  I  could 
easily  imagine  myself  in  some  far  away  city  of  the 
East. 

"  MADE  A   REPAIERT." 

These  are  the  mysterious  words  we  read  over  the 
inner  door  which  is  half  way  open.  A  stout,  good- 
natured  looking  Frenchman  answers  our  knock,  and 
we  step  down  into  a  dark  little  basement  room  that 
smells  very  strong  of  rubber  and  dyes. 

There  is  a  nicely  polished  cooking  stove  that  fills 
up  a  goodly  portion  of  the  room,  and  all  sorts  of 
"  kitchen  furniture  "  seem  in  the  act  of  "  changing 
places."  Estoup  can  talk  English,  and  understands 
it,  too ;  but  he  jabbers  French  a  great  deal  faster ! 


104  Child  Toilers. 

Yes,  he  has  plenty  of  balloons  already  made,  but 
the  man  who  makes  them  for  him  is  out  of  town  to- 
day. Estoup,  however,  is  very  obliging.  He  will  tell 
us  just  how  the  work  is  done,  and  some  day,  perhaps, 
we  can  come  in  again. 

Here  are  the  sheets  of  rubber  —  a  peculiar  kind  of 
gutta  percha  that  Estoup  says  cannot  be  bought  in 
this  country. 

"Way  over  England  —  come,"  he  explains,  and 
when  we  take  the  rubber  in  our  hands,  its  tint  and  its 
firm,  close  texture  is  quite  different,  we  find,  from 
ordinary  rubber. 

Then  Estoup  takes  up  a  forlorn  looking  little  "  wab  " 
of  nondescript  color,  puts  it  to  his  lips,  and  with 
every  puff  of  breath  we  can  see  it  grow  bigger  and 
bluer. 

"  Him  four  parts  —  see  ! "  and,  like  a  miniature 
globe  quartered  in  regular  divisions,  we  notice  how 
neatly  and  firmly  the  four  parts  of  the  little  balloon 
have  been  cemented  together. 

Then,  Estoup  brings  out  two  big  jars,  such  as- chem- 
ists use,  and  shows  us  how  the  vitriol  is  poured  upon 
the  pieces  of  zinc,  and  a  kind  of  gas  formed  to  in- 
flate the  rubber. 

"  Dye   all   through  —  blue,  red,  white  —  no    wash 


The  Balloon  Venders.  105 

off !  "  and  Estoup  puts  them  to  his  tongue  that  we 
may  see  for  ourselves. 

"  Pictures,  flags  —  paint-pot  —  bad,  poison  the 
children  !  These  no  harm  —  never  ! "  he  adds  with 
many  gestures.  We  nod  assent,  which  brings  another 
grimace  of  delight  to  Estoup's  broad,  good-natured 
face. 

"  But  how  about  the  whistles  —  do  you  make  them 
too?" 

"  Out,  out  \  make  all  —  right  here !  " 

Pedro  buys  a  dozen  of  the  balloons  and  pays 
seventy  cents  for  them  ;  so  we  know  just  how  much 
profit  he  gets  when  he  sells  them  on  the  Common. 

"  And  do  you  have  a  great  demand  for  the  bal- 
loons ? "  we  ask  Estoup. 

With  just  a  bit  of  a  consequential  air,  he  shows  us 
a  large  order  he  has  lately  had  from  California. 

"  Me  makes  twenty-five  gross  a  week  sometime  — 
Fourth  of  July  me  no  make  them  fast  enough.  " 

"  But  where  is  your  little  boy  ?  Doesn't  he  help 
you  ? " 

"  Oh !  non  \  non !  —  him  way  off  —  seminaire  in 
France — me  no  want  him  to  make  balloons  —  me 
give  him  an  '  educate. ' " 

Estoup  fears  we  may  not  understand  ;  and  repeats 
his  words  with  gestures  innumerable. 


io6  Child  Toilers. 

With  true  fatherly  pride,  he  talks  about  this  little 
son  who  is  to  have  such  a  fine  "educate;"  and  we 
can't  help  wondering  if  the  boy  is  making  a  good  use 
of  his  opportunities. 

Surely,  he  ought  to  study  very  hard,  and  grow  up  a 
comfort  and  honor  to  such  a  loving,  devoted  father ! 

"  Please,  sir,  can  I  have  a  cent's  worth  of  that 
rubber  ? " 

It  is  a  child's  voice^  and  looking  up  we  see  a  little 
girl  standing  in  the  door-way. 

Estoup  welcomes  her  with  a  smile,  and  gets  the 
cent's  worth  of  rubber  with  as  much  alacrity  as  if  it 
were  one  of  those  "  big  orders." 

You  see  he  is  every  inch  a  Frenchman,  and  never 
forgets  his  manners  !  I  don't  wonder  people  like  to 
trade  with  him,  for  to  be  always  obliging  and  always 
polite  —  even  in  little  things  —  is  the  mark  of  a  true 
gentleman. 

As  far  as  the  making  of  toy  balloons  is  concerned, 
I  believe  Estoup  &  Co.  to  have  the  whole  monopoly 
in  Boston. 

Doubtless  many  toy  shops  in  the  city  —  especially 
the  larger  establishments  —  send  directly  to  New 
York  or  Paris  for  the  ready-made  article  ;  but  Estoup 
and  his  man  "  Friday  "  know  the  secret,  and  I  think 
their  little  balloons  are  quite  as  well  made  as  those 
that  come  from  a  greater  distance. 


The  Balloon  Venders.  109 

How  ingenious  all  these  French  people  are  !  Why, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  their  busy  brains,  I  don't  believe 
we  should  have  had  any  sort  of  balloons,  at  all ! 

Ever  and  ever  so  many  years  ago,  there  was  an  old 
Catholic  priest,  Father  Lauretus  Laurus  by  name, 
who  said  if  any  one  would  take  the  egg  of  a  goose, 
blow  out  the  inside,  and  fill  it  with  morning  dew, 
something  very  wonderful  would  happen. 

But  to  see  it  best,  you  must  put  it  out  in  the  hot  sun 
at  the  foot  of  a  long  ladder.  Then,  when  the  egg 
grew  very  hot,  it  would  begin  of  its  own  accord  to 
mount  up  the  ladder  —  round  by  round!  Of  course, 
this  was  all  a  fancy  of  Father  Lauretus'  brain,  but 
you  see  he  had  the  right  theory,  after  all,  about  the 
expansion  of  heated  air. 

It  was  a  good  many  years  after  this,  that  Stephen 
and  Joseph  Montgolfier,  two  brothers  who  lived  near 
Lyons,  in  France  —  actually  made  a  little  bag  which 
they  called  "  balloon  "  from  the  French  word  "  bal- 
lon "  meaning  "  little  ball." 

After  a  few  experiments,  just  among  themselves, 
they  resolved  to  have  a  public  exhibition  in  the  large 
open  square  where  everybody  could  see  this  wonder- 
ful little  ball  that  was  lighter  than  the  air  itself. 

It  was  a  lovely  June  morning  in  the  year  1783,  and 
a  great  crowd  gathered  in  the  square  to  see  this  first 
ascent.  The  balloon  itself  looked  just  like  folds  of 


1 10  Child  Toilers. 

paper ;  but  when  a  fire  was  kindled  underneath,  in- 
stead of  burning  up  it  began  to  rise  higher  and  higher 
till  at  last  "it  was  out  of  sight !  For  ten  minutes  it 
hung  suspended  in  the  air,  then  floated  gently  down 
and  landed  in  a  vineyard  —  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
the  city. 

Well,  after  this,  the  two  brothers  made  a  large 
bag.  fastened  a  little  basket  to  it,  and  into  the  basket 
they  put  a  sheep,  a  cock,  and  a  duck.  These  were 
the  first  living  creatures  that  ever  went  "up  in  a  bal- 
loon;" and  they  evidently  enjoyed  their  funny  ride  in 
the  air,  for  all  three  were  bright  and  lively  when  the 
balloon  came  down  to  earth  again.  The  cock's  wing 
to  be  sure,  was  just  a  little  lame,  but  that  probably 
came  about  from  his  uneasy  fluttering. 

Now,  certain  courageous  Frenchmen  began  to  won- 
der if  it  wouldn't  be  possible  for  themselves  to  take 
an  air-voyage  in  just  the  same  way. 

The  wise  and  the  cautious  shook  their  heads  and 
said  it  was  a  very  fool-hardy,  dangerous  experi- 
ment j  but  Pilatre  de  Rozier,  a  young  French  natur- 
alist, was  determined  to  run  the  risk. 

At  last,  he  persuaded  the  Marquis  d'  Arlandes 
to  go  with  him,  and  on  the  twenty-first  of  No- 
vember, that  very  same  year,  (1783,)  they  made 
their  first  ascent. 


The  Balloon  Venders.  in 

Of  course,  this  was  a  much  larger  balloon 
than  any  of  the  others,  and  I  think  the  bag 
was  made  of  silk,  dipped  into  a  solution  of 
Indian-rubber.  Then,  instead  of  being  filled 
with  heated  air  like  the  Montgolfier  balloons,  it 
was  inflated,  if  I  remember  rightly,  with  hydrogen  gas. 

It  was  a  dull,  cloudy  day  when  the  two  men 
got  into  the  little  car  that  was  fastened  to  this 
mysterious  air  bag.  1  don't  wonder  the  Marquis 
was  a  little  frightened  when  the  cords  that  held 
the  balloon  to  the  ground  were  cut  away,  and  up 
up,  three  thousand  feet  they  rose  —  as  if  on  the 
wings  of  some  great  bird ! 

There  was  a  crowd  watching  them  from  the 
chateau  gardens  of  Muette,  where  the  balloon  had 
been  fastened;  but  Rozier  and  the  Marquis  soon 
lost  sight  of  them.  Six  miles  of  space  they 
traversed  in  twenty-five  minutes,  and  when  they 
were  ready  to  come  down  the  balloon  was  rest- 
ing over  the  Boulevards. 

O !  so  many  questions  as  they  had  to  answer 
when,  safe  and  sound,  they  fairly  reached  the 
ground. 

The  curious  people  flocked  around  them,  like  as 
many  magpies,  and  those  who  had  croaked  loudest 


H2  Child  Toilers, 

about  the  "  wild  goose  scheme"  were  now  ready 
to  try  the  venture  themselves. 

Since  that  ascent,  there  have  been  many  others 
far  more  wonderful,  but  not  one  of  greater  in- 
terest or  importance ;  for  this,  you  know,  was  the 
very  first  ascent  that  anyone  had  dared  to  make ; 
and  to  do  what  nobody  else  has  ever  done  before 
always  takes  a  deal  of  noteworthy  courage  and 
enterprise. 

But  we  have  wandered  away  from  Pedro,  and 
his  little  toy  balloons.  He  is  back  at  his  post 
on  the  Common  now;  and  there  is  a  little  girl 
not  far  away  from  him,  who  is  selling  balloons  too. 

Really,  I  am  afraid  he  will  find  her  a  danger- 
ous "  rival  in  trade.  " 

Sometimes,  you  will  see  the  little  empty  bags 
taken  about  in  a  basket. 

There  is  a  boy  —  or  rather  man,  I  have  seen 
on  Washington  Street,  who  has  a  wooden  box 
slung  over  his  neck  with  a  leather  strap ;  and  in 
the  box  he  carries,  among  other  articles,  a  new- 
fashioned  kind  of  balloon  that  he  sells  at  twenty- 
five  cents  apiece. 

It  is  shaped  and  colored  just  like  Pedro's,  but 
I  see  there  are  two  holes  instead  of  one,  in  the 
empty  rubber  bag. 


The  Balloon  Venders.  113 

A  little  metal  tube  is  thrust  into  the  first  hole, 
and  into  the  second  a  sort  of  flute  whistle  made 
of  some  bright  colored  wood. 

When  I  saw  him,  he  was  showing  a  young 
girl  how  to  use  it ;  first,  he  blew  up  the  bag  by 
means  of  the  little  metal  tube,  and  then  as  the  air 
began  to  escape  he  moved  his  fingers  rapidly  up  and 
down  the  long  piece  of  colored  wood. 

O  dear,  such  an  unearthly  noise  as  it  made !  I 
suppose  he  called  it  "  music,"  but  it  sounded  more 
like  an  Indian  war-whoop  than  anything  else  I  could 
think  of. 

Perhaps  "  the  boys  "  may  enjoy  this  noisy  toy, 
but  I  know  the  little  girls  like  Pedro's  balloons  a 
great  deal  better. 

Why,  it  is  most  as  good  as  a  kite,  to  have  one  of 
these  light  pretty  balls  that  float  so  quietly  high  up 
in  the  air. 

Sometimes  they  are  fastened  to  a  long  stick  that 
will  easily  bend  without  breaking ;  but  a  good,  stout 
string  answers  every  purpose  if  the  balloon  is  well 
inflated. 

It  is  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  children  at  play  with 
these  bright  toys  on  the  Common  and  Public  Gar- 
dens. In  and  out  among  the  trees  and  shrubbery, 


H4  Child  Toilers. 

they  look  like  colored  lights  when  the  sunshine  falls 
upon  them.  But,  woe  to  the  unfortunate  balloon  that 
gets  caught  and  torn  in  the  branches  !  A  hole  as  big 
as  a  pin's  head  is  enough  to  burst  the  brilliant  bub- 
ble ;  and  no  doubt  it  is  a  very  good  thing  for  the 
trade  that  these  pretty  delicate  toys  are,  at  best,  but 
short-lived. 


THE  STREET  PEDDLERS. 

DID   you  ever  think  what  the  word  " peddler, '* 
comes  from  ?     Sometimes  we  see  it  spelt  "ped- 
lar "  and  "  pedler ;"  but  the  first  way  is  the  best — 
at  least  so  the  big  dictionary  says,  and  of  course  it 
knows  better  about  such  things  than  anybody  else. 

But  it  isn't  quite  sure,  after  all,  what  the  word  it- 
self comes  from.  There  is  the  German  "bettler" 
that  certainly  sounds  like  "  peddler ; "  but  it  means 
"  beggar,"  and  I  don't  like  to  apply  that  term  to  our 
busy  little  venders.  "Pedester"  is  the  Latin  word 
for  "  going  on  foot,"  and  perhaps  it  comes  from  that  j 
but  the  Scotch  term  "  pedder "  is  still  nearer  our 
word,  and  means  one  who  carries  a  "  ped  "  or  basket. 
So,  without  questioning  where  the  Scotch  people  got 
their  word,  I  think  we  must  have  borrowed  ours  right 
from  them,  don't  you? 

"5 


i!6  Child  Toilers. 

Such  a  variety  of  little  "  pedders  "  and  "peds  "  as 
\ve  have  in  our  Boston  Streets  !  Down  by  Boylston 
Market  there  is: — or  was — a  little  fellow  who  ped- 
dled canes,  and  his  "  ped  "  was  just  an  old  tow  bag. 
They  were  very  modest  walking  sticks  —  only  ten 
cents  apiece  —  and  as  they  were  nicely  polished  I've 
no  doubt  he  found  a  ready  sale  for  them. 

Then,  here  is  a  little  girl,  Mary  Wilton  by  name, 
who  peddles  candy,  and  her  "ped"  is  a  bright  tin 
tray.  All  her  candy  is  "  home-made,"  so  you  needn't 
be  afraid  to  buy  it.  She  and  her  brother  Willy  live 
just  over  Charlestown  bridge,  and  what  they  earn  by 
peddling  fruit  and  candy  goes  a  great  way  towards 
supporting  the  family. 

A  favorite  place  of  Mary's  is  the  right  hand  side  of 
Court  Street,  as  you  leave  Tremont  Row.  Sometimes 
you  will  find  her  sitting,  with  her  little  candy  tray,  in 
the  doorway  close  by  Pierce's  grocery.  I  wish  she 
could  go  to  school  and  give  up  this,  gypsy  sort  of 
life ;  but  the  poor  mother  says  she  cannot  get  along 
without  the  money  that  Mary  brings  home  at  night. 
And  so,  unless  the  father  gives  up  drinking,  I  am 
afraid  our  little  girl  will  have  to  keep  on  with  her 
peddling. 

Down  on  State  Street  you  may  meet  little  Joseph 
Conio  some  day,  He's  a  funny-looking  child  with 


The  Street  Peddlers.  1 1 7 

hair  cropped  close  to  his  head  and  great  ears  that 
stand  out  on  either  side  like  big  cockle  shells. 

When  I  saw  him  he  was  barefoot,  and  I  presume 
you  will  find  him  so  most  of  the  year ;  for  boots  and 
shoes,  except  in  the  bleakest  of  weather,  are  among 
the  "non-essentials"  with  these  little  street  urchins. 
But  when  you  look  at  Joseph's  eyes  you'll  forget  all 
about  his  dirt  and  rags.  The  long  lashes  and  heavy 
arched  brows  frame  in  a  pair  of  liquid  black  orbs 
that  would  do  for  one  of  Coreggio's  cherubs. .  And  a 
bright,  honest  face  it  is,  that  looks  up  into  yours. 

Joseph  is  a  great  favorite  with  all  who  know  him  ; 
and  he  tells  me  he  has  one  kind  friend  on  State 
Street  who,  very  often,  pays  him  money  but  never 
will  take  a  bit  of  his  fruit  and  candy. 

Joseph  says  he  is  twelve  years  old,  but  he  looks  a 
deal  younger ;  and,  when  I  say  as  much,  the  child 
gravely  remarks : 

"  I  s'pose  I'm  so  little  'cause  I  work  so  hard. 
Why,  sometimes  I  carry  eighty  pounds  of  paper  all 
at  once ! " 

This  leads  me  to  question  him  further  and  I  find 
that,  now-a-days,  he  thinks  it  more  profitable  to  col- 
lect waste  paper  than  to  peddle  fruit  and  candies. 

"  You  see,  they  know  me  now  at  the  offices  there 
on  State  Street,  and  the  gentlemen  save  the  paper 


1 18  Child  Toilers. 

for  me.  I  cany  down  a  big  tow  bag,  fill  it  chuck  full, 
and  then  take  it  round  to  the  junk  sho'ps." 

"  And  how  much  money  do  they  give  you  for  it  ? " 

"  A  cent  a  pound ;  and  I  generally  carry  down  a 
good  many  in  my  bag." 

There  are  Frank,  Poli,  and  a  little  sister  whose 
name  I've  forgotten,  —  all  younger  than  Joseph,  —  so 
whatever  the  little  fellow  can  earn,  whether  by  ped- 
dling or  by  picking  up  waste  paper,  is  a  great  help  at 
home. 

Then,  here  is  another  street-peddler,  little  Stephen 
Magini  by  name,  whose  flaxen  hair  and  blue  eyes 
look  as  if  they  ought  by  right  to  belong  to  some  genu- 
ine Saxon  child.  His  own  brother  Augustus,  how- 
ever, has  the  usual  Italian  complexion ;  and  I  find 
that  little  Stevie  is  no  less  a  child  of  the  sunny  South 
than  he.  For  in  Italy  there  are  two  types  of  nation- 
ality entirely  distinct  in  their  looks,  and  Stevie's  fa- 
ther, who  has  very  light  hair  and  eyes,  belongs  to  one, 
while  his  dark-eyed  mother  belongs  to  another. 

Stevie  is  in  school  this  morning  —  he  comes  two 
hours  every  day — and  he  stumbles  through  a  spell- 
ing lesson  with  so  much  perseverance  that  I  think  he 
means  to  be  a  good  scholar.  But  it  is  very  funny  to 
hear  these  Italian  children  try  to  spell  English  words. 
The  e's  are  all  a's  and  the  i's  e's  to  their  ears  ;  for  at 


TJie  Street  Peddlers. 


119 


home  they  never  hear  anything  but  Italian.  Stevie, 
however,  picks  up  a  good  many  English  words  on  the 
street,  so  he  has  a  curious  combination  just  now  in 
his  little  brain. 

If  you  meet  a  curly-headed,  rosy-cheeked  urchin  on 
the  street  with  fruit  and  candies  to  sell,  who  answers 
to  the  name  of  "  Stevie,"  you  may  be  pretty  sure  it  is 
the  very  one  I  am  telling  you  about.  And,  if  you 
can,  just  stop  and  buy  something  out  of  his  basket, 
for  the  money  you  give  him  will  not  be  wasted.  There 
are  lots  of  little  ones  at  home,  and  Slevie's  mother 
finds  it  hard  work  to  keep  them  all  in  food  and  clothing. 

Here  is  a  little  girl,  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  our 
big  dry-goods  stores,  who  has  cocoa-nut-cakes  to 
sell. 

"  Only  eight  cents  a  dozen  !  "  she  calls  to  the  pass- 
ers-by ;  but  I  do  not  think  she  finds  a  ready  sale  foi 
them  here.  By  and  by,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she 
wandered  up  Tremont  Street,  so  as  to  be  "on  the 
spot "  when  the  school  bells  ring  for  recess.  There, 
among  the  school-children,  her  little  cakes  will  be  in 
great  demand,  and  she  will  sell  them  at  so  much  a-piece, 
which  is  more  profitable  than  to  sell  them  by  the 
dozen. 

Sometimes,  at  the  entrance  of  public  buildings,  you 
will  notice  a  placard  printed  in  large  letters,  "No 
peddlers  allowed  here."  Well,  I  suppose  they  are 


120  Child  Toilers. 

oftentimes,  a  real  nuisance ;  for  I  know  some  of  these 
little  street-peddlers  are  veritable  "tramps,"  and  often 
have  a  long  story  to  tell  that  hasn't  a  word  of  truth 
in  it.  • 

I  saw  a  little  girl  in  the  Post  Office  one  day,  hurry- 
ing along  with  a  big  basket  on  her  arm  that  was  cov- 
ered over  with  an  old  blue  cloth.  She  was  munch- 
ing away  on  a  banana  as  if  she  wanted  to  get  it  out 
of  sight  as  quickly  as  possible ;  and  when  I  stepped 
up  to  buy  something  from  her  basket,  she  started  sud- 
denly, hung  down  her  head,  tucked  the  old  cloth 
tightly  over  the  fruit,  and  ran  off  —  out  of  the  Post 
Office  and  down  Water  Street  as  fast  as  her  feet 
could  carry  her. 

It  was  very  evident  that  the  child  had  stolen  her 
bananas,  but  when  I  thought  of  the  wretched  home 
she  had .  come  from,  where  her  theft  had,  doubtless, 
been  praised  as  "smartness,"  I  felt  more  like  pitying 
than  blaming  her.  Poor  little  girl !  What  will  be- 
come of  her  if  she  is  left  to  grow  up  under  such 
wicked  influences ! 

"  Please,  sir,  won't  you  buy  a  cake  of  soap  ?  " 

It  is  a  very  pitiful  voice,  and  the  gentleman  looks 
up  to  see  before  him  a  forlorn  little  specimen  of  hu- 
manity with  two  cakes  of  soap  in  her  hand. 

"  No,  child,  I  don't  want  any  to-day," 

"  But  please,  sir,  do  buy  one  cake,  —  mother's  sick 


A  STREBT  PEDDLER.     . 


The  Street  Peddlers. 


123 


and  father  can't  get  any  work.  I  haven't  had  a  thing 
to  eat  since  morning." 

The  gentleman  keeps  on  writing,  and  the  child 
keeps  on  whining. 

"  But  I  told  you  I  didn't  want  any  soap.  Here ! 
take  this  quarter  and  run  off." 

This  is  just  what  the  child  expected  ;  those  three 
cakes  of  soap,  that  she  slid  off  the  counter  at  the  big 
store  when  no  one  was  looking,  she  knows  will  last 
her  all  day,  if  she  can  only  find  the  right  persons  to 
impose  upon.  For  the  child's  story  is  all  false ;  and 
had  the  gentleman  just  taken  the  trouble  to  inquire 
into  the  matter  he  would  soon  have  found  out  the 
truth  for  himself.  When  he  does  know  it  he  will 
probably  say : 

"They  are  all  alike  —  a  thieving,  lying  set,  the 
whole  of  them  !  " 

But  this  is  not  so.  There  are,  even  among  the 
poorest  and  most  ignorant,  those  who  are  honest, 
truthful,  and  willing  to  work ;  but  we  must  learn  to 
seek  them  out;  must  go  into  the  "highways  and 
hedges  "  ourselves,  and  then  we  shall  know  just  who 
do  need  and  are  really  worthy  of  our  help. 

Some  time  ago,  a  little  German  girl  came  to  a 
friend's  house  on  Beacon  Street  and  rang  the. bell. 
She  had  a  basket  on  her  arm  and  in  the  basket  were 


124  Child  Toilers. 

trimming  laces,  pins,  needles,  sewing-silk  and  buttons. 

Now,  it  happened  the  lady  wanted  some  of  these 
very  articles,  and  so  she  told  the  servant  to  bring  the 
little  girl  up  to  her  room. 

I  don't  think  the  child  had  ever  seen  so  grand  a 
house  before.  It  seemed  just  like  a  dream  to  her, 
and  she  wondered  if  they  were  not  stepping  on  real 
flowers  as  she  followed  the  servant  through  the  long 
halls  and  up  the  broad  stairway.  But  if  she  had  been 
"  born  to  the  purple,"  she  couldn't  have  behaved  in  a 
prettier  manner.  Her  neat  dress,  her  gentle  quiet 
ways,  and  her  modest  straight-forward  replies  to  the 
lady's  questions,  showed,  at  once,  how  well  she  had 
been  brought  up.  But  my  friend,  although  she  was 
very  much  pleased  and  bought  more  of  the  little  girl's 
wares  than  she  actually  wanted,  was  not  satisfied  un- 
til she  had  been  to  the  child's  home  and  proved  the 
truth  of  her  simple  touching  story.  It  was,  as  she 
thought,  just  as  the  little  girl  had  said,  and  ever 
since  then  the  poor  struggling  family  have  not  wanted 
the  help  and  encouragement  of  warm,  true  friends. 

It  is  curious  to  notice  what  a  variety  of  articles  are 
peddled  now-a-days  upon  the  street.  Here  is  a  boy 
with  sponges,  another  with  tooth-picks,  and  still  an- 
other with  the  "  little  Harry  lamps."  In  one  door- 
way stands  a  keen-eyed  Jew  with  neck-ties  and  scarf- 


The  Street  Peddlers.  125 

pins  to  sell ;  in  another,  a  man  with  rubber  balls  and 
funny  toy  spiders  on  an  elastic  string. 

Here  are  the  new-fashioned  crimping  pins  —  "  just 
a  few  more  left,  ladies !  "  —  and  here  are  the  "  roly- 
poly  dolls,"  and  the  reins  with  jingling  bells.  Tissue 
paper  of  all  colors,  plaster-paris  images,  books,  chro- 
mos,  imitation  bronzes,  eye-glasses,  .jewelry,  oil  paint- 
ings (  so-called),  and  even  live  puppies,  you  will  see  of- 
fered for  sale  on  our  Boston  streets.  At  the  holiday 
season,  why  it  actually  seems  as  if  all  the  stores  were 
turning  themselves  inside  out. 

But  the  indefatigable  peddlers  do  not  stop  here. 
In  the  depots,  at  the  wharves,  on  the  cars,  anywhere 
and  everywhere  they  are  not  actually  forbidden  and 
there  is  any  possibility  of  selling  their  wares,  you  will 
be  sure  to  find  them. 

Well !  it  is  certainly  better  than  begging,  and  in 
these  days  when  it  is  so  hard  to  get  any  kind  of  work 
it  is  oftentimes  the  only  way  that  many  have  of  earn- 
ing a  livelihood. 

I  know  of  a  man  whose  helpless  family  is  dependent 
upon  charity,  just  because  he  is  too  proud  to  do  me- 
nial work  or  anything  like  peddling.  One  of  his  chil- 
dren is  a  little  invalid,  and  if  it  were  not  for  kind 
friends  who  send  the  child  many  necessaries  as  well 
as  delicacies  I  don't  know  how  the  family  would  get 


126  Child  Toilers. 

along.  They  live  in  a  tenement  house  down  by  one 
of  our  large  depots,  and  people  coming  into  town 
have  often  noticed  the  pale  sweet  face  at  the  window. 

One  day,  somebody  threw  a  flower  into  the  little 
girl's  hands.  She  was  so  delighted  that  the  next  day 
they  brought  her  some  more ;  and  then  others  began 
to  bring  her  fruit  and  toys  and  all  sorts  of  pretty 
things.  Finally  they  proposed  that  she  should  have 
a  little  basket  which  she  could  draw  up  and  down 
from  her  window  with  a  cord.  And  ever  since  then 
these  kind  friends  who  come  in  on  the  cars  have  kept 
the  basket  filled  with  all  sorts  of  "goodies." 

It  is  one  of  the  few  bright  spots  in  poor  little  An- 
nie's life,  and  I  wish  you  could  see  her  eyes  sparkle 
as  she  draws  up  the  mysterious  basket.  I  don't 
know  as  we  can  class  her  among  the  little  peddlers, 
but  I  couldn't  lay  down  my  pen  till  I  had  told  you 
about  her  curious  little  "ped." 


THE  CHESTNUT  ROASTERS. 

HOW  good  the  smoking  chestnuts  smell,  as  we 
turn  the  corner !  Yes,  this  very  east  wind 
that  blows  little  Katie  "  almost  to  pieces  "  is  truly  the 
best  advertisement  in  the  world  for  her  great 
brown  nuts. 

Just  see  how  nicely  they  are  roasted.  She  has 
learned  the  secret  of  turning  them  at  the  right 
moment — when  they  snap,  you  know  —  and  it  is 
very  seldom  you  will  find  a  burnt  one  in  the  whole  lot. 

Some  of  the  nuts  she  keeps  in  a  little  pile  at  one 
side  of  her  tray,  for  a  customer  may  come  and  call 
for  some  raw  ones;  but  almost  everybody  likes  the 
roasted  nuts  better,  and  so  she  reserves  only  a  few 
in  the  raw  state. 

This  little  "  roaster "  of  Katie's  is  an  ingenious 

127 


128  Child  Toilers. 

thing  in  its  way.  It  looks  like  a  miniature  stove,  has 
a  grate  above,  and  a  sort  of  oven  beneath  that  holds 
the  charcoal.  Sometimes,  in  the  short  afternoons 
when  she  stays  out  after  dark,  she  fastens  a  torch 
to  the  roaster  j  and  very  picturesque  the  little  stand 
looks,  and  the  little  vender,  too,  in  the  flickering,  red 
light. 

The  smaller  chestnuts  were  gathered  by  Katie's 
father  and  brothers,  who  walked  a  long  distance  to 
find  them. 

I  wonder  how  many  of  my  Wide  Awake  readers 
know  what  it  is  to  go  chestnutting. 

Suppose,  this  bright  afternoon,  we  try  the  fun 
ourselves.  Up  on  the  hill-side,  where  it  is  warm  and 
dry,  we  shall  find  the  best  trees ;  and  long  before 
we  reach  them,  the  rich,  russet  leaves  among  the 
evergreens  and  the  oaks  will  point  out  the  way,  like 
so  many  lighted  candles. 

How  still  the  woods  are  !  All  the  birds  have  flown, 
excepting  the  little  pewit  and  the  big  black  crow ;  for 
it  is  a  long  journey  South,  and  the  bob-o-links,  the 
thrushes,  and  the  finches,  started  weeks  ago.,  Now 
and  then  a  dead  leaf  drops  to  the  ground  with  a 
crisp,  rustling  sound  ;  and  a  moment  ago  I  saw  a 
red  squirrel  dart  across  the  path.  There  he  is 
coming  back  again  now  with  his  cheeks  full  of  nuts. 


The   Chestnut  Roasters.  129 

And  here  is  his  mate,  just  peeping  out  of  their  home 
in  the  old  hollow  tree  Dear  me,  if  we  only  had 
teeth  like  the  squirrels  and  could  climb  as  fast  as 
they,  how  easy  it  would  be  to  gather  our  nuts.  But 
here  we  are,  right  under  the  beautiful  trees,  and  just 
see  what  a  soft,  dainty  carpet  the  falling  leaves  have 
made. 

Brown  and  green  and  gold  —  what  prettier  combi- 
nation of  colors  could  we  have  ?  And  here  are  tall 
straight  trunks  for  pillars,  and  a  bit  of  blue  sky  for 
our  ceiling.  Truly  we  are  treading  a  king's  palace 
to-day. 

But  what  is  the  matter  with  Robbie  ?  There  he 
stands,  shaking  his  little  sun-burnt  fingers,  and  crying, 
alternately. 

O,  I  see  now  what  it  is.  He  has  picked  off  the 
tree  —  the  foolish  boy  —  a  couple  of  those  great, 
prickly,  "  shut-up  "  burrs,  and  is  trying  to  open  them 
himself.  Ah,  little  Robbie,  you  must  not  be  in  such  a 
hurry  ;  Jack  Frost  can  do  that  work  a  great  deal  better 
than  you,  and  these  tight  burrs  were  getting  all  ready 
for  his  magic  touch  to-night.  You  might  as  well 
throw  them  away  at  once ;  for,  even  if  you  manage 
to  split  open  the  burrs,  the  nuts  inside  will  be  green 
and  unfit  to  eat. 

Just  see  what  Percy  has  picked  up  on  the  ground. 


130  Child  Toilers. 

A  dozen  big  ripe  nuts  that  dropped  off  their  ugly 
coverings  long  ago ;  and  Beth  holds  in  her  hand  a 
wide-open  burr,  with  three  nuts  all  cosily  packed 
together  inside,  like  little  brown  birds  in  their  soft 
warm  nest.  For  the  inside  of  the  burr,  you  see,  is 
just  as  delicate  and  silky  as  the  outside  is  rough  and 
prickly.  Isn't  it  wonderful,  how  much  care  is  taken 
to  protect  and  ripen  one  little  nut? 

Think  of  those  beautiful  spring  days  when  the 
birds  and  the  blossoms  unfolded ;  when  April 
showers  and  bright  May  sunshine  bathed  and  kissed 
the  long  fragrant  tassels  till,  one  by  one,  they  flew 
away,  and  left  in  their  places  tiny  green  balls  on  the 
old,  weather-beaten  tree. 

You  could  scarcely  see  them  at  first,  these  wee 
little  creatures  —  they  were  so  very  small  and  weak  ; 
but,  day  by  day,  the  warm  sun  nourished  them,  and 
summer  winds  tenderly  rocked  them,  till,  by  and 
by  —  all  over  the  tree  —  these  funny  porcupine-look- 
ing burrs  began  to  peer  out  in  the  sauciest  manner 
possible.  It  seemed  as  if  they  knew  how  much  time 
and  care  it  had  taken  to  make  them,  and  what  treas- 
ures they  held  inside;  for  tighter  and  tighter  they 
clung  to  the  tree,  and  no  rude  winds  or  rains  could 
even  peep  in  at  their  close-barred  doors.  It  was  no 
admittance  to  everybody  till  the  little  nuts  inside 


The  Chestnut  Roasters.  131 

were  fully  grown  and  fairly  ripe.  Then  the  poor  old 
burrs  didn't  care  —  Jack  Frost  and  the  cold  north 
winds  and  the  driving  storms  might  come  and  break 
open  the  doors  whenever  they  pleased  —  the  big 
brown  nuts  were  now  able  to  take  care  of  themselves, 
and  as  for  the  burrs,  why,  they  were  so  tired  out  that 
they  just  longed  to  lie  down  on  the  dead  leaves,  and 
go  quietly  to  sleep. 

Over  the  sea,  in  Gloucestershire,  England,  is  an 
old,  old  chestnut  tree  that  has  given  birth  to  more 
than  a  thousand  generations  of  nuts.  In  King 
John's  time  it  was  known  as  a  boundary  mark ;  and  I 
doubt  if  there  is  another  chestnut  tree  in  all  the 
world  that  is  quite  so  old  as  this. 

But,  on  Mt.  Etna,  there  is  a  very  wonderful  one 
that  measures  nearly  two  hundred  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence. It  is  hard  to  imagine  a  tree  so  large  as  this, 
but  just  take  a  bit  of  string  some  day  and  put  it 
around  the  biggest  tree  you  can^find ;  then  you  will 
understand  better  how  many  trees  of  ordinary  size  it 
would  take  to  make  one  that  would  measure  two 
hundred  feet  around,  like  this  one  up  on  Mt.  Etna. 
One  part  of  the  trunk  is  hollow,  and  sometimes 
whole  flocks  of  sheep  with  their  shepherds  get  inside 
for  protection  from  the  sun  or  rain. 

Once  upon  a  time,  Joanna  of  Arragon,  with  a  bun- 


132  Child  Toilers. 

dred  horsemen,  all  from  the  noble  families  of  Catania, 
rode  up  the  mountain  side ;  and  just  as  the  royal 
party  reached  this  wonderful  tree,  there  came  up  a 
sudden  and  very  violent  storm. 

At  first,  they  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  but  the  big 
tree  threw  out  its  great  arms  so  invitingly  that  they 
drove  in  under  the  branches,  and,  sure  enough,  there 
was  plenty  of  room  for  them  all.  Ever  after  that, 
the  tree  was  called  the  "  Hundred-Horse  Chestnut." 

These  European  trees  are  not  very  different  from 
ours,  but  the  nut  that  grows  upon  them  is  much 
larger.  The  best  kind  for  eating,  the  French  call 
marrows;  and  all  these  big  nuts  that  Katie  has  in 
her  "  roaster,"  have  come  from  over  the  seas.  She 
charges  twenty-five  cents  a  pint  for  these — just 
double  what  she  does  for  the  natives, —  for  she  had 
to  pay  a  good  price  for  them,  herself ;  and  each  one 
of  the  foreign  nuts  is  equal  to  a  couple  of  ours. 

Little  Augustus  0Magini  tells  me  that  when  they 
lived  in  Genoa  he  used  to  go  out  into  the  chestnut 
groves  about  the  city  and  gather  the  nuts,  just  as  we 
have  been  doing  to-day. 

"We'd  shake  the  trees,  and  the  big  ripe  burrs 
would  tumble  down,"  he  says. 

"  But  did  you  never  have  any  frost  there  ? 

"  P'raps,  but  it  wasn't  cold  like  as  it  is  here.  Some- 
times, though,  we  did  have  n  lif'le  snow." 


LITTLE  KATIB. 


The  Chestnut  Roasters.  135 

Just  think  of  snow  in  sunny  Italy  ;  but  Genoa,  you 
know,  is  farther  north  than  Florence  and  Naples. 

"  And  they  used  to  grind  up  the  nuts  and  make 
flour  out  of  'em  "  adds  Augustus. 

"And  what  did  they  do  with  the  flour  —  make 
bread  and  cakes  out  of  it  ?  " 

Augustus  is  a  little  doubtful  —  he  was  a  very  little 
fellow  when  they  left  Italy,  and  he  doesn't  quite  re- 
member.  But  we  know  that  puddings  cakes,  bread, 
and  soup-thickening  are  made  from  this  kind  of 
chestnut  flour,  or  rather  meal ;  and  all  throughout  the 
southern  portions  of  Europe,  it  forms  a  staple'  article 
of  food  among  the  poor. 

Sometimes,  the  chestnuts  are  simply  boiled  or 
roasted,  and  eaten  with  milk ;  but  in  whatever  form 
they  are  taken,  the  nuts  contain  a  deal  of  nutriment, 
and  I  don't  know  how  the  working  classes  could  get 
along  without  them.  For  meat  costs  a  deal,  and 
chestnuts  there,  are  very  plenty  and  very  cheap. 

Beside  the  flour,  there  is  a  kind  of  crumb  like 
sugar  made  from  the  nut  that  is  quite  good  for  many 
purposes ;  and  all  throughout  Spain,  Italy,  Switzer- 
land and  Germany,  the  wood  of  the  sweet  chestnut  is 
much  valued  by  cabinet  makers  and  coopers. 

On  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Rhine,  along  the 
slopes  of  the  Jura,  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Alps,  you 


136  Child  Toilers. 

will  find  the  chestnut  tree ;  and  in  England,  too,  for 
there  it  is  grown  for  coppice- wood  and  for  building 
purposes,  as  well  as  for  its  fruit. 

The  wood  of  the  chestnut  is  very  much  like  oak, 
both  in  color  and  texture ;  and  when  it  is  well  sea- 
soned, as  in  old  buildings,  it  is  very  difficult  to  tell  the 
two  apart.  Some  say  that  the  roof  of  Westminster 
Abbey  is  really  made  of  chestnut,  although  it  looks 
exactly  like  oak,  and  is  usually  described  as  such. 

In  our  own  country,  too,  we  find  the  native  chest- 
nut wood  is  often  used  for  hard  finish  in  buildings, 
and  for  furniture.  Sometimes,  it  is  put  with  black 
walnut,  and  then  the  contrast  of  light  straw  with  dark 
brown  is  very  effective. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  Thomas 
Jefferson  tried  to  introduce  the  European  chestnut 
into  Virginia,  but  I  do  not  think  it.  has  taken  very 
kindly  to  our  soil.  We  have  plenty  of  horse  chestnuts, 
but  these  trees  are  altogether  different  from  the  chest- 
nut whose  fruit  is  fit  to  eat,  and  resembles  the  horse 
chestnut  only  in  size.  The  tree  itself,  is  so  large  and 
so  beautiful  both  in  its  form  and  foliage,  I  don't  won- 
der Salvator  Rosa  delighted  to  bring  it,  as  often  as 
possible,  into  his  paintings. 

But  here  is  little  Katie,  waiting  to  give  us  our  pint 
of  chestnuts  and  our  change. 


The  Chestnut  Roasters.  137 

We  have  wandered  "  over  the  seas  and  far  away," 
but  we  shall  eat  our  chestnuts  with  all  the  better 
relish,  for  that.  Chestnut  vending,  during  the  season, 
is  quite  the  fashion  here  in  Boston  •  and  on  the  Com- 
mon you  will  find  another  little  girl,  Adeline  Barr  by 
name,  who  sells  chestnuts  with  her  cakes  and  fruits 
and  candies. 

Her  father  is  a  Greek,  she  tells  me,  and  he  is 
usually  at  the  stand  himself ;  but  when  I  saw  little 
Adeline,  she  was  "  keeping  shop  "  all  by  herself ;  and 
I  couldn't  help  wondering  that  so  tiny  a  child  should 
be  left  to  take  the  entire  charge. 

When  the  chestnuts  first  come,  they  seem  to  mark, 
as  the  strawberries  do,  a  decided  change  of  season. 

We  can't  help  calling  it  "  summer  "  —  no  matter 
how  early  it  may  be  —  whenever  the  great  red  berries 
make  their  appearance ;  and  so  to-day  we  say, 
"Autumn  and  old  Jack  Frost  have  surely  come,  for 
don't  you  see  the  chestnuts  are  all  ripe,  and  in  the 
market  ?" 


THE  TELEGRAPH  BOYS. 

THERE  are  about  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  boys  in  all,  that  flit  about  our  Boston 
streets  with  these  magic  telegrams.  And  a  busier  set 
of  little  fellows  —  except  it  be  the  cash  boys  —  I 
don't  believe  you  will  find  in  the  whole  city. 

The  "  Western  Union "  Office,  including  all  its 
branches,  employs  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  boys  j 
and  the  Main  Office  on  State  Street  has  seventy-five 
of  the  whole  number. 

I  wonder  if  you  have  ever  noticed  their  uniform. 
It  is  a  dark  navy  blue,  and  the  short  coat  has  upon 
each  shoulder  a  three-cornered  piece  of, red;  while 
the  pockets,  if  I  remember  rightly,  and  the  pantaloons, 
too,  are  corded  with  the  same  color. 

The  cap  has  a  decided  military  air ;  and  the  raised 
138 


The   Telegraph  Boys.  139 

letters,  "  WESTERN  UNION  TELEGRAPH,"  are  printed 
in  heavy  black  upon  a  white  band. 

These  uniforms  are  all  made  in  New  York,  and  the 
boys  each  buy  them  of  the  Company  —  paying  fifteen 
dollars  for  the  suit. 

No  boy  is  allowed  to  have  the  position  unless  he 
wears  the  uniform ;  and  when  the  regulation  was  first 
put  in  force  (a  few  years  ago)  it  created  a  good  deal 
of  ill-feeling. 

The  boys  thought  it  unjust  that  they  should  be 
compelled  to  spend  so  large  a  part  of  their  earnings 
in  this  way ;  but  after  a  little  they  began  to  see  how 
much  better  it  was  to  have  an  "  official "  suit.  It 
gave  a  certain  dignity  to  their  work,  and  after  all 
the  price  was  just  about  the  same  as  they  would  have 
to  pay  for  any  good  suit  of  clothing. 

So  I  think  there  is  not  a  word  of  complaint  now-a 
days  about  the  "regulation." 

The  "  District  Telegraph  "  boys  have  a  uniform,  too, 
which  is  very  like  the  "  Western  Union ; "  but  if  you 
notice  closely  you  will  see  that,  instead  of  the  three- 
cornered  piece  on  their  shoulders,  they  have  a  sort  of 
clover  leaf  made  of  scarlet  eord.  *Then  the  letters 
upon  their  caps  are  just  the  reverse  in  color ;  for  the 
words,  "District  Telegraph,"  are  printed  in  raised 
white  letters  on  a  black  band. 


140  Child  Toilers. 

The  boys  employed  by  the  "  Atlantic  and  Pacific 
Telegraph  Company"  have  gray  uniforms,  something 
like  the  letter  carriers ;  but  we  do  not  often  see  them 
on  the  street  for  the  whole  force  numbers  now  only 
about  seventeen  boys. 

So  much  for  round  figures  and  uniforms  —  now  a 
word  about  the  boys  themselves.  Some  of  the  little 
fellows  are  seemingly  not  more  than  twelve  years  old, 
but  most  of  them  are  between  the  ages  of  fourteen 
and  eighteen.  Nearly  every  one  is  earning  his  own 
living,  and  many  of  them  have  others  depending 
upon  their  earnings. 

The  "  District  Telegraph  "  boys  are  paid  three  and 
four  dollars  a  week  by  the  Company  according  to  the 
amount  of  work  they  do  ;  while  the  "Western  Union  " 
boys  receive  so  much  for  the  delivery  of  each  mes- 
sage. I  believe  the  lowest  price  paid  is  two  and  a 
half  cente,  and  the  highest  twenty-five. 

The  "  Union  "  boys  at  the  Main  Office  are  arranged 
in  three  divisions  each  numbering  twenty-five  boys. 
By  this  means  the  day  and  night  work  are  very 
evenly  divided. 

The  boy  who*  through  the  week  is  kept  up  latest 
goes  by  the  name  of  the  "  Good-night  boy." 

Hither  and  thither  all  through  the  city,  and  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night,  the  little  fellows  hurry 


The   Telegraph   Boys.  141 

along  with  their  dispatches.  And  just  think  what 
important  messages  they  carry  in  those  great  yellow 
envelopes  ! 

Here  is  a  "  Western  Union  "  cap  dodging  in  and 
out  among  the  crowds  on  Washington  and  Tremont 
streets.  He  is  hurrying  on  as  fast  as  he  can,  for 
somebody's  darling  lies  just  at  the  point  of  death, 
and  the  few  words  he  carries  are  fraught  with  terrible 
import  for  somebody. 

While  he  is  on  his  way,  another  boy  is  carrying  a 
message  of  good  news  —  the  safe  arrival  of  some 
dear  friend  in  a  foreign  port ;  and  here  is  another 
with  a  mysterious  urgent  request  that  only  the  re- 
ceiver can  understand. 

The  rise  and  the  fall  of  gold,  the  fluctuations  of 
the  market,  weather  records,  war  news,  political  nom- 
inations, the  latest  word  from  Congress  —  all  matters, 
whether  of  public  or  private  interest,  which  flash  across 
the  wires  are  recorded  at  the  various  Offices  and  de- 
livered by  these  swift,  trusty  little  messengers  in  an  in- 
credibly short  space  of  time. 

As  I  stood  waiting  in  the  Main  Office,  and. read 
upon  the  walls,  "Messages  sent  at  all  hours  to  all 
parts  of  the  world,"  I  couldn't  help  contrasting  the 
world  of  to-day  with  the  world  of  "  a  hundred  years 
ago."  Then  telegraphing  seemed  but  an  idle  dream, 
too  wonderful  to  be  ever  realized. 


142  Child  Toilers. 

Perhaps  you  have  read  how  at  first  they  tried  for 
each  message  as  many  wires  as  there  are  letters  of 
the  alphabet;  and  when,  in  1816,  Ronalds  thought  a 
single  wire  would  do,  he  was  told  by  the  British  gov- 
ernment that  "  telegraphs  of  any  kind  are  now  wholly 
unnecessary,  and  no  other  than  the  one  now  in  use 
will  be  adopted." 

Just  think  what  a  remark  that  was  for  enlightened 
England  to  make. 

But  she  couldn't  stop  the  busy  brains  from  think- 
ing and  wondering  and  planning. 

Dyar,  Ampere,  Baron  Schilling,  Moncke  and  Cooke, 
one  after  the  other,  kept  the  ball  of  inquiry  and  ex- 
periment constantly  in  motion  ;  and  each  added  some 
new  suggestion  to  the  growing  idea  of  a  practical 
system  of  telegraphing.  At  last,  in  1835,  tne  fifst 
actual  electric  telegraph  was  constructed  in  England 
from  Paddington  to  Drayton,  a  distance  of  thirteen 
miles.  There  were  five  needles  connected  with  it,  and 
the  six  wires,  wound  round  with  hemp,  were  laid  in 
pipes  along  the  surface  of  the  ground. 

Four  years  later,  a  certain  Dr.  O'Shaughnessy 
built  at  Calcutta  the  first  over-ground  line  of  iron 
wire,  which  he  drew  over  bamboo  poles. 

But  it  remained  for  our  own  countryman,  Samuel 
F.  B.  Morse,  to  perfect  the  great  discovery;  and  it 


A  TELEGRAPH  Bov. 


The   Telegraph  Boys.  145 

was  during  his  voyage  home  from  France  in  1832 
that  he  first  conceived  the  idea  of  making  signs  at  a 
distance,  by  means  of  a  pencil  moved  by  an  electric 
magnet.  The  model  he  formed  had  but  one  conduct- 
ing medium,  and  the  paper  was  moved  under  the 
pencil  by  clock  work.  This  he  made  in  1835,  but  it 
was  not  till  1844  that  the  first  public  telegraph  was 
laid  in  our  country.  It  extended  from  Washington 
to  Baltimore,  a  distance,  as  you  remember,  of  forty 
miles.  Since  then,  there  has  been  no  end  to  the  lines 
of  telegraphing  that  have  been  laid  all  over  our 
country  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  coast ;  and  now, 
as  you  know,  the  great  ocean  itself  is  spanned  by  the 
same  magic  wire ;  for  Cyrus  Field  conquered  every 
difficulty  and  showed  us  how  even  the  deep  waters 
could  be  made  a  connecting  medium. 

Of  course  my  WIDE  AWAKE  readers  know  how  the 
messages  travel  over  the  wires  ;  but  perhaps  they  do 
not  quite  understand  what  the  District  Telegraph 
means;  there  are  only  four  offices  in  Boston —  one  at 
the  South  End  Post  Office,  one  at  the  State  House, 
another  on  Brimmer  Street,  and  the  fourth  at  the 
Brunswick  Hotel.  It  was  at  this  latter  office  that  I 
saw  how  the  system  worked. 

There  are  ten  boys  employed  here,  and  they  are  on 
duty  ten  hours  each  day.  Of  this  number,  two  are 


146  Child  Toilers. 

up  all  night,  and  the  ten  take  turns  in  sharing  this 
night  work.  Their  uniform  I  described  as  being  very 
similar  though  quite  distinct  from  the  Western  Union 
boys ;  and  I  might  have  added  that  it  is  a  good  deal 
fresher-looking,  for  the  "  District "  boys  have  not 
been  so  long  in  "  office." 

At  the  Brunswick,  there  are  three  circuits  of  the 
District  Telegraph  ;  and  as  the  name  implies  the  lines 
are  all  confined  to  city  limits.  The  various  wires  in 
the  office  are  connected  with  private  houses  and  are 
for  the  especial  convenience  of  those  who  may  desire 
immediate  attendance. 

A  strip  of  paper  passes  under  the  electric  needle, 
and  each  of  the  three  circuits^ has  a  separate  instru- 
ment. While  I  was  there  a  call  came  from  one  of 
the  circuits,  so  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  just 
how  the  whole  thing  was  managed. 

When  the  needle  moves  a  bell  rings  —  once,  if  it  is 
just  an  errand  boy  that  is  wanted  ;  twice,  if  a  police- 
man is  called ;  and  three  times  if  any  one  desires  a 
hack  to  be  sent  to  his  residence.  Well,  this  time  the 
bell  rang  twice,  very  violently,  too,  —  and  the  clerk  in 
charge  quickly  lifted  up  the  paper  under  the  needle, 
read  the  number  of  dots  pricked  upon  it  —  opened  a 
little  drawer  just  above  that  had  the  same  number 
printed  upon  it,  found  in  the  drawer  the  gentleman's 


The   Telegraph   Boys,  147 

address ;  and,  in  far  less  time  than  I  can  possibly 
write  it  down,  it  was  all  done  and  the  policeman  run- 
ning fast  to  relieve  the  frightened  household. 

The  truth  was  that  in  one  of  those  pretty  brown 
stone  fronts  on  the  Back  Bay  there  was  just  then, 
even  while  I  sat  there,  a  great  commotion. 

It  seems  hardly  possible  that  anything  of  the  kind 
could  occur  in  such  a  locality  of  the  city ;  but  we 
must  remember  that  even  in  the  most  elegant  of 
mansions  there  must  always  be  a  "  down-stairs  "  as 
well  as  an  "  up  stairs." 

Now  a  certain  Maria  in  one  of  these  lower  domains, 
had  been  cook  and  queen  for  so  many  years  that 
nobody  thought  of  disputing  her  rights-  She  could 
make  the  whitest  of  bread,  the  puffiest  of  pastry,  the 
lightest,  most  mouth-melting  of  cakes  —  indeed,  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  in  all  Miss  Parloa's  art  to  which 
this  fat  Maria  was  not  equal.  But  alas  !  she  had  one 
great  failing  —  and  the  little  black  bottle  on  the  cor- 
ner shelf  in  the  cupboard  told  the  whole  story. 

Well,  on  this  particular  day  that  I  began  to  tell  you 
about,  the  children  up  in  the  nursery  heard  a  great 
outcry  from  the  basement. 

Harry  was  the  boldest  of  the  little  trio,  and  scam- 
pered down  stairs  to  see  what  was  the  matter ;  but 
eoon,  with  all  the  color  out  his  rosy  cheeks,  he  came 


148  Child  Toilers. 

running  back  —  crying  at  the  top  of  his  lungs.  The 
little  fellow  was  terribly  frightened,  but  managed  to 
tell  his  mamma  that  there  was  a  big  rough  man  in  the 
kitchen,  that  Maria  had  thrown  a  plate  at  him,  and 
that  her  face  was  just  as  red  as  red  could  be ! 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  exclaimed  nurse ;  "  it  is  that  horrid 
son  of  hers  and  they  are  having  a  regular  drunken 
quarrel  clown  there — dear,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they 
killed  each  other  !  dear,  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

Nobody  dared  go  down  and  separate  them,  but  sud- 
denly mamma  thought  of  the  District  Telegraph  that 
had  been  brought  to  the  house  only  a  few  days 
before. 

"  Why,  we  can  send  right  away  for  a  policeman  —  I 
never  thought  we  should  need  our  telegraph  for 
this!" 

A  little  click  of  the  magnetic  wire,  twice  repeated, — 
an  answering  "  click  click  "  at  the  office,  —  and  then 
a  third  "click,  click"  at  the  Police  Station  (for 
there  are  wires  from  each  District  Telegraph  Office 
to  the  various  Fire  Departments,  Hack  Stands  and 
Police  Stations  in  the  city);  and  then,  before  Harry  was 
half  through  his  crying,  the  policeman  stood  at  the 
door. 

The  boys  tell  me  that,  of  the  four  uses  made  of  the 
District  Telegraphing,  the  call  for  messengers  to  run 
errands  comes  the  most  frequently  \  then  the  call  for 


The   Telegraph  Boys.  149 

hacks  ;  while  the  alarm  of  fire  is  about  as  frequent  as 
the  double  click  for  policemen. 

At  the  Office  at  Hotel  Brunswick,  many  of  the 
boys  understand  how  to  manage  the  telegraph  battery 
themselves  ;  and  one  little  fellow  who  has  been  there 
quite  a  long  time  receives  an  extra  dollar  a  week  for 
work  done  in  the  Office. 

At  the  State  House  Office  thirty  "  District  "  boys 
are  employed ;  at  the  South  End  Post  Office  ten ;  and 
at  the  Brimmer  Street  Office  only  three  are  needed. 

It  is  about  four  years  since  the  system  of  this  Dis- 
trict telegraphing  was  put  into  working  order  j  and  a 
year  ago  last  August  a  Telephone  Despatch  Company 
was  formed.  The  three  offices  of  this  latter  Company 
are  on  Washington  Street,  Charles  Street,  and  under 
Hotel  Berkeley. 

Only  sixteen  boys  are  as  yet  employed  in  all  the 
telephone  offices  combined ;  but  as  the  business 
increases  the  number  needed  will  of  course  be  larger. 

Their  uniform  is  hardly  distinguishable  from  the 
"  District "  boys  except  by  the  caps  which  have  "  Tell 
ephone  Despatch  Co."  in  gilt  letters  upon  the  black 
band. 

The  different  circuits  go  to  private  houses  in  the 
city,  and  the  principal  advantage  the  telephone  sys- 
tem has  over  telegraphy  is  that  spoken  words  travel 
even  faster  than  those  electrically  written. 


SUGAR  PLUMS.  Poems  by  ELLA  FARMAN.  Pic- 
tures by  Miss  C.  A.  Northam.  Price,  $t  oo.  D.  Lothrop 
&  Co.,  Boston. 

This  collection  of  sweets,  which  the  critics  say  is  the 
best  verse-boolcpublished  since  "  Lilliput  Levee,"  will  prob- 
ably prove  to  be  one  of  the  most  popular  Christmas-Tree 
books  of  the  season.  The  poems  are  written  from  a  child's 
own  point-of-view,  and  some  of  them,  like  "  Learning  to 
Count,"  "Baby's  Frights,"  " Pinkie-Winkie-Posie-Bell," 
will  be  perennial  favorites  in  the  nursery.  While  the  book 
is  sure  to  captivate  the  baby-memory,  we  will  whisper  to 
the  mothers  that  there  is  not  an  idle  "jingle  "  in  the  vol- 
ume, but  that  every  verse  will  subtly  give  a  refining  and 
shaping  touch  to  the  little  child-soul.  The  book  is  at- 
tractively bound,  handsomely  illustrated,  and  ought  to  be 
found  in  every  Christmas  Stocking  in  the  land. 

Ask  your  Bookseller  for  it. 

POEMS  IN  COMPANY  WITH  CHILDREN.  — By 
MRS.  S.  M.  B.  PIATT.  Illustrated.  Price,  $i  50.  D. 
Lothrop  &  Co.,  Boston. 

A  mother's  book  —  one  of  those  dainty,  treasured  vol- 
umes of  poetry  which  naturally  find  a  resting-place  in  the 
mother's  work-basket,  always  at  hand,  to  be  taken  up  in  a 
tender  moment.  It  abo  contains  many  poems  to  be  read 
aloud  in  the  twilight  hour  when  the  children  gather  around 
mother's  knee.  Of  its  literary  excellence  it  is  needless  to 
speak  as  Mrs.  Piatt  stands  at  the  head  of  American  womeo 
poets. 


OUT  OF  DARKNESS  INTO  LIGHT.     By  Mary  A.    Lathbury. 

With  eight  masterly  character  drawings,  full  page,  with 

poems  and   exquisite  vignettes.     Fine  binding.     Quarto. 

Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.     Price,  .s:J.OO. 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  this  one  of  the 
most  attractive  presentation  books  which  baa  been  brought 
out  iu  this  city  for  many  seasons.  Elegantly  bound  and  su- 
perbly illustrated,  displaying  the  utmost  art  of  artist  and 
printer,  its  literary  merit  is  of  the  highest  order.  The  au- 
thor, Miss  Mary  A.  Lathbury,  is  both  artist  and  poet.  In. 
the  several  poems  which  make  up  the  Ifook  she  traces  the 
gradual  coming  out  from  the  thick  darkness  of  doubt  and 
unbelief  into  the  full  broad  day  of  faith  and  religious  trust. 
They  are  sweetly  and  delicately  written,  and  will  appeal  to 
many  hearts  whose  experiences  have  been  similar.  The 
drawings  with  which  Miss  Lathbury  accompanies  her  poems 
express  in  form  what  her  pen  has  done  in  words.  So  full  of 
moaning  has  she  made  them  that  they  almost  alone  tell  the 
story  of  the  doubt,  the  struggle,  the  anguish  and  the  convic- 
tion which  so  many  have  experienced  in  their  attempts  to 
attain  to  a  higher  spiritual  life.  The  vignettes  are  no  less 
artistic  and  expressive,  each  one  being  emblematic  of  some 
sentiment  contained  in  the  poem  to  which  it  belongs.  To 
those  who  celebrate  Christmas  as  a  religious  festival  as  well 
as  to  those  who  are  of  a  thoughtful  turn  of  mind,  the  vol- 
ume will  have  a  peculiar  yahie.  Most  holiday  volumes  serve 
only  for  the  season  in  which  they  appear,  but  the  one  before 
us  possesses  those  peculiar  elements  which  make  it  a  stand- 
ard work,  unaffected  by  the  lapse  of  time  or  seasons. 

THE  CHILDREN'S  ALMANAC.  FOR  1879-80-81-82-83.  Edited 
By  Ella  Farman.  Boston :  D.  Lothrop  &  Co. 
This  unique  little  volume,  which  for  beauty  and  intrinsic 
value  will  compare  with  many  of  the  high-priced  annuals, 
contains  peculiar  attractions  which  will  render  it  one  of  the 
best  selling  books  of  the  season.  The  calendar  — which 
reaches  over  five  years  —  gives  it  a  value  which  the  ordinary 
almanac  does  not  possess.  Each  month  is  represented  by  an 
original  poem  from  the  pen  of  a  distinguished  American 
author,  the  list  of  contributors  numbering  such  names  as 
Longfellow,  Whittier,  Aldrich,  Celia  Thaxter,  Mrs.  A.  D.  T. 
Whitney,  Edgar  Fawcett,  and  others.  Accompanying  these 
poems  are  twelve  exquisite  drawings  on  wood  by  Miss  Hum- 
phrey, and  four  beautiful  chromo-lithographs  by  Miss  Lath- 
bury.  As  if  these  attractions  were  not  enough,  the  editor 
__  has  prepared  twelve  pages  of  birthday  mottoes  from  the 
'  poets,  making  a  single  line  motto  for  every  day  in  the  year. 
Blank  memoranda  leaves  are  inserted  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  wish  to  put  down  notes  or  make  record  of  daily  occur- 
rences. Two  editions  are  issued, — one  in  plain  cloth,  at 
50  cents,  and  the  other  with  silver-and-gold  cover  gilt  edges, 
at  $1.00. 


AMY  AND  MARION'S  VOYAGE  AROUND  THE  WORLD.  By 
Surah  13.  Adams.  Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.  16mo.  390 
pages  $1.25. 

Th in  handsome  volume,  from  the  pen  of  the  daughter  of 
a  distinguished  Boston  clergyman,  is  the  record  of  a  trip 
around  the  world  in  an  East  India  merchantman,  made  a  year 
or  two  since  by  two  young  ladies,  one  of  whom  was  the 
author.  Sailing  from  Boston,  the  first  land  touched  was 
San  Francisco.  From  there,  after  a  brief  stay,  the  voyagers 
proceeded  to  Honolulu,  thence  to  the  Chinese  coast,  where 
the  cities  of  Hong  Kong,  Canton,  Singapore,  Amoy,  Shang- 
hai and  Macao  were  visited  in  turn.  The  ship  then  sailed 
for  the  Philippine  Islands;  and  at  Manila,  one  of  the  loveliest 
and  most  picturesque  cities  of  the  Southern  Pacific,  two  or 
three  happy  weeks  were  spent.  From  that  pore  the  home- 
ward course  was  taken,  the  vessel  doubling  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  and  sailing  up  the  African  coast.  The  story  of 
the  voyage  is  gracefully  and  vividly  told.  The  jolly  times 
on  shipboard;  the  sights  seen  from  deck;  rough  weather 
experiences;  the  excursions  made  at  the  various  stopping 
places,  and  the  adventures  and  misadventures  attendant 
upon  them;  the  scenery,  customs  of  the  different  people 
visited,  together  with  innumerable  incidents  of  the  trip,  are 
described  with  a  freshness  and  vigor  which  render  every 
page  of  the  book  thoroughly  enjoyable.  The  illustrations 
which  accompany  the  text  are  made  doubly  interesting  from 
the  fact  that  they  are  engraved  from  photographs  procured 
on  the  spot  and  brought  home  by  the  author. 

JESTTS,  LOVER  OF  MY  SOUL.  Exquisitely  illustrated.  An 
elegant  small  Quarto  gift-book.  Gilt  edges.  A  compan- 
ion volume  to  "  The  Ninety  and  Nine."  Boston:  D.  Loth- 
rop &  Co.  Price,  $1.00. 

There  is  no  more  beautiful  hymn  in  the  English  language 
than  the  one  which  furnishes  the  title  of  this  exquisite  little 
volume.  Many  readers  will  remember  the  affecting  story  of 
the  wreck,  where  one  of  the  lady  passengers,  cut  off  from  all 
hope  of  escape,  clinging  to  a  rock  from  which  every  wave 
threatened  to  tear  her  hold,  poured  out  her  soul  in  these 
sweet  words  of  trust.  The  artist,  Mr.  Robert  Lewis,  has 
seized  upon  this  incident  as  the  subject  of  one  of  his  most 
effective  drawings.  The  entire  series  of  illustrations  are  ex- 
ceedingly fine,  the  work  of  Mr.  Lewis  as  draughtsman  hav- 
ing been  ably  supplemented  by  that  of  Mr.  Dana  as  the  en- 
graver. The  volume  forms  a  beautiful  presentation  book, 
and  though  equally  attractive  with  the  three  and  five  dollar, 
volumes  which  fill  the  counters  of  our  bookstores,  is  sold  at 
the  nominal  price  of  one  dollar.  The  interest  of  the  work  is 
larely  added  to  by  an  eloquent  preface  from  the  pen  of  the 
Rev.  \V.  B.  Wright,  of  the  Berkeley  Street,  Church. 


LITTLE  Miss  MISCHIEF  AND   HER   HAPPY    THOUGHTS. 

Adapted  from  the  French  of  P.  J.  Stalil  by  Ella  Farman. 

Boston :  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.     Price,  75  cts. 

In  a  series  of  capitally  drawn  sketches  the  artist  tells  the 
story  (assisted  by  the  author)  of  a  mischievous  little  girl  who 
undertook  while  her  mother  was  confined  to  her  room  by  ill- 
ness, to  set  things  to  rights  generally  about  the  house.  She 
paints  mustaches  on  a  portrait  which  her  artist  papa  has  just 
finished;  tries  to  color  the  lap-dog's  face  black  with  ink  and 
spills  it  over  herself  and  the  floor;  attempts  to  wash  her 
papa's  gray  hat  with  the  inky  sponge;  breaks  the  mantel 
clock  in  trying  to  wind  it;  pours  boiling  water  into  the  globe 
of  goldfish  to  make  them  more  comfortable;  cuts  off  the 
corners  of  her  mamma's  nice  shawl  so  it  will  not  drag  in  the 
street,  and  does  a  variety  of  other  things  which  no  one  but 
an  idle  and  inquisitive  little  girl  would  ever  think  of  doing. 
The  book  is  printed  on  fine  paper,  with  double  line  border 
about  every  page. 
LITTLE  Miss  MUSLIN.  HER  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES. 

By  John  Brownjohn.     Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.     50  cts. 

Everybody  has  read  and  laughed  over  the  adventures  of 
Miltiades  Peterkin  Paul,  which  were  brought  out  in  a  taste- 
ful quarto  volume  last  holiday  season.  Miltiades,  it  appears, 
had  a  cousin,  a  charming  young  lady  of  six  or  seven,  who, 
although  city  born  and  bred,  possessed  certain  peculiarities 
which  rendered  their  companionship  congenial.  Miss  Mus- 
lin, for  that  was  her  name,  was  continually  doing  something 
to  get  herself  or  some  one  else  into  a  scrape.  Her  experi- 
ences after  a  time  were  varied  by  a  visit  to  Miltiades  in  the 
country.  The  troubles  they  get  themselves  into  and  what 
was  said  and  done  about  them  are  told  in  detail  by  the  author 
in  the  same  offhand,  humorous  style  in  which  the  adventures 
of  Miltiades  were  chronicled.  The  drawings  are  from  the 
pencil  of  Livingston  Hopkins,  one  of  the  best  American 
caricaturists.  The  volume  is  got  up  as  a  companion  to  the 
book  of  last  year. 
Music  FOR  OUR  DARLINGS.  Edited  by  Dr.  Eben  Tourjee 

Fully  Illustrated.  Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.    Price,  $1.25. 

Hundreds  of  young  readers  will  remember  the  beautiful 
book  issued  last  year  called  Poems  for  Our  Darlings.  It 
proved  so  successful  that  this  season  the  Messrs.  Lothrop 
have  brought  out  a  companion  volume  called  Music  for  Our 
Darliitys,  containing  nearly  forty  favorite  pieces  of  music, 
most  of  them  with  piano  accompaniment.  Among  them  are 
"Pretty  Fido,"  "Turkey  Song  for  Thankgiving,"  "The 
Squirrel,"  "Gentle  Robin  Redbreast, "  "The  Railway 
Train,"  etc.  In  addition  there  are  prefatory  sketches  and 
articles  on  music  by  Prof.  Tourjee,  who  edits  the  books, — 
and  over  fifty  full-page  engravings.  It  is  beautifully  bound 
in  cloth,  wiih  black  and  gold  ornamentation. 


LINKS  IN  REBECCA'S  LIFE.  By  "Pansy."  Price,  $1.50. 
Boston:  D.  Lotbrop  &  Co. 

"Pansy"  has  no  rival  as  an  author  of  the  hest  class  of 
Sunday-school  books.  Her  "  Ester  Ried"  and  "Chautauqua 
Girls  "  series  are  models  in  that  important  line  of  literature. 
Her  new  book,  "  Links  in  Rebecca's  Life,"  is  worthy  of  a 
place  in  the  same  list.  This  book  is  an  admirable  one.  Its 
tone  is  healthy  and  stimulating,  without  a  trace  of  senti- 
mentalism  or  cant:  and  its  characters  are  thoroughly  natu- 
ral, such  as  any  reader  can  recognize  in  the  community  in 
which  be  happens  to  live.  The  heroine,  Rebecca,  is  intense- 
ly human,  with  a  noble  nature  in  which  many  weaknesses 
hide  themselves  and  come  often  to  the  surface.  But  she  is 
a  Christian  of  the  best  type,  and  her  aspirations  and  hard- 
fought  battles  inspire  enthusiasm  in  a  reader.  The  Com- 
mittee on  International  Lessons  couldn't  do  a  better  thing 
than  to  circulate  this  book  in  every  part  of  the  land.  It 
shows  how  the  lessons  may  be  made  helpful  in  the  daily 
life,  and  how  the  Old  Testament  may  be  taught  witli  in- 
terest to  an  Infant  School,  or  to  men  and  women  of  every 
congregation. 

ECHOING  AND  RE-ECHOING.  By  Faye  Huntlngton.  Price 
$1.50.  Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.,  publishers. 

It  shows  great  ignorance  of  the  Sunday-school  literature 
of  our  day,  when  one  calls  it  weak  and  namby-stuff,  with  an 
equal  mixture  of  love-stories,  and  impossible  adventures. 
The  censure  is  just  for  a  certain  class  of  books,  but  a  large 
library  may  be  gathered  of  first-class  works  admirable  alike 
in  moral  tone  and  in  literary  execution,  books  which  every- 
body can  read  with  delight  and  profit.  "Echoing  and  Re- 
echoing" is  a  book  of  this  sort,  a  well-told  story,  abounding 
with  practical  lessons,  and  inciting  to  a  noble  Christian  life. 
The  most  intelligent  opponent  of  religious  novels  will  find 
his  prejudices  giving  way  in  reading  it,  and  a  fastidious  lit- 
erary reader  will  be  thankful  that  children  have  such  good 
books  for  moulding  their  literary  tastes. 


B.  BY  BUXTIXO.  Short  Stories  wUh  Bright  Pictures.  3y 
the  Best  American  Authors.  Boston:  D.  Lotbrop  &  Co. 
Price,  $1.00. 

Baby  Bunting  is  a  beautiful  quarto  with  one  of  tho  most 
attractive  outsides  we  have  seen  for  a  long  time.  It  is  made 
up  of  choice  stories  adapted  to  the  reading  of  children  from 
f  mr  to  eight  years  of  age.  They  are  all  short,  few  of  them 
being  ov«r  a  page  in  length,  and  each  is  accompanied  by  a 
full  page  engraving.  It  is  just  the  kind  of  book  that  ought 
to  be  popular,  and  undoubtedly  will  be. 

YOUNG  FOLKS'  HISTOBY  OF  GERMANY.    By  Charlotte  M. 

Yon  go.    Boston:  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.     Price.  $1.50. 

This  handsome  volume  is  the  first  of  a  series,  which  will 
include  the  principal  countries  of  Europe,  the  succeeding 
numbers  of  which  will  appear  at  brief  intervals.  Miss 
Yonge,  whose  talents  have  been  exerted  in  various  directions 
for  the  benefit  of  young  readers,  has  been  peculiarly  success- 
ful in  this  series,  which  has  had  a  very  large  sale  in  Europe, 
and  deserves  a  like  popularity  here.  It  covers  not  only  the 
entire  period  of  Gentian  civilization  down  to  the  present 
time,  but  it  gives  an  account  of  ancient  Germany  and  its  in- 
habitants in  time§  which  might  almost  be  called  pre-historic. 
The  first  chapters  are  explanatory  of  the  German  mythology, 
and  of  the  ancient  methods  of  worship.  The  N"ibelungen 
Lied  is  described  and  its  story  tokl.  The  real  history  begins 
about  the  year  490  A.  D.,  at  a  time  when  the  Pranks  were 
the  victorious  race  in  Europe.  From  that  time  down  to  the 
beginning  of  the  present  year  the  record  is  continuous.  The 
volume  is  profusely  illustrated. 

HAPPY  MOODS  OP  HAPPY  CHILDREN.    Original  Poems. 

By  favorite  American  authors.    Boston:  D.  Lothrop  & 

Co.     Price  $1.00. 

We  venture  to  say  that  no  publishing  house  in  the  country 
will  issue  this  season  anything  choicer  in  the  way  of  a  pre- 
sentation book  of  poems  than  this  charming  volume.  The 
poems  it  contains  were  written  expressly  for  Mr.  Lothrop, 
and  have  never  before  been  brought  together  in  collected 
form.  Among  the  authors  represented  are  Elizabeth  Stuait 
Phelps,  Clara  Doty  Bates,  Margaret  G.  Preston,  Ella  Farman, 
Mrs.  Piatt,  Harriet  McEweu  Kimball,  Mary  A.  Lathbnry, 
Nora  Perry,  Mrs.  L.  C.  Whiton,  Celia  Thaxt'er,  Edgar  Faw- 
cett,  and  many  others.  Although  the  volume  is  ostensibly 
preferred  for  children,  it  is  one  which  grown-up  people  will 
equally  enjoy.  There  are  a  score  or^moreof  illustrations, 
most  of  them  full-page,  exquisitely  drawn  and  engraved. 


is  one  of  the  most  popular 


YOUNG  RICK.    By  Julia  A.  Eastman.  Large 

i6mo.     Twelve  illustrations  by  Sol  Eytinge  .  $i  50 

A  bright,  fascinating  story  of  a  little  boy  who  was  both  a  bless- 
.  ing  and  a  bother.  —  Boston  Journal. 

The  most  delightful  book  on  the  list  for  the  children  of  the 
family,  being  full  of  adventures  and  gay  home  scenes  and  merry 
play-times.  "Paty"  would  have  done  credit  to  Dickens  in  his 
palmiest  days.  The  strange  glows  and  shadows  of  her  character 
are  put  in  lovingly  and  lingeringly,  with  the  pencil  of  a  master. 
Miss  Margaret's  character  of  light  is  admirably  drawn,  while  Aunt 
Lesbia,  Deacon  Harkaway,  Tom  Dorrance,  and  the  master  and 
mistress  of  Graythorpe  poor-house  are  genuine  "charcoal 
sketches." 

STRIKING  FOR  THE  RIGHT.     By  Julia 

A.  Eastman.     Large  i6mo.     Illustrated       .     i  75 

While  this  story  holds  the  reader  breathless  with  expectancy 
and  excitement,  its  civilizing  influence  in  the  family  is  hardly  to 
be  estimated.  In  all  quarters  it  has  met  with  the  warmest  praise. 

THE  ROMNEYS  OF  RIDGEMONT.  By 

Julia  A.  Eastman.  i6mo.  Illustrated  .  i  50 

BEULAH  ROMNEY.  By  Julia  A.  Eastman. 

16  mo.  Illustrated  .....  i  50 

Two  stories  wondrously  alive,  flashing  with  fun,  sparkling  with 
tears,  throbbing  with  emotion.  The  next  best  thing  to  attending 
Mrs.  Hale's  big  boarding-school  is  to  read  Beulah's  experience 
there. 

SHORT-COMINGS  AND  LONG-GOINGS. 

By  Julia  A.  Eastman.     16  mo.     Illustrated,     i   25 

A  remarhabls  book,  crowded  with  remarkable  characters.  It 
is  a  picture  gallery  of  human  nature. 

KITTY    KENT'S   TROUBLES.      By  Julia 

A.  Eastman.     16  mo.     Illustrated        .  i   50 

"A  delicious  April-day  style  of  book,  sunshiny  with  smiles  on 
one  page  while  the  next  is  misty  with  tender  tears.  Almost  every 
type  of  American  school-girl  is  here  represented—  the  vain  Helen 
Dart,  the  beauty,  Amy  Searle,  the  ambitious,  high  bred,  conserv- 
ative Anna  Matson  ;  but  next  to  Kitty  herself  sunny  little  Paul- 
ine Sedgewick  will  prove  the  general  favorite.  It  is  a  story  fully 
calculated  to  win  both  girls  and  boys  toward  noble,  royal  ways  of 
doing  little  as  well  as  great  things.  All  teachers  should  feel  an 
interest  in  placing  it  in  thu  hand.;  of  their  pupils." 


THE   CHAUTAUQUA    GIRLS  AT  HOME- 
By  Pansy.     I2mo.     Illustrated I  50 

•'  Pansy  knows  girls,  and  has  the  gift  of  story-telling,  by  which 
tha  hard  facts  of  every-day  life  take  on  a  charm  as  of  fairy-land.  No 
one  can  look  into  'The  Chautauqua  Girls'  without  feeling  the 
subtle  fascination  of  its  pictures  of  quiet  life,  and  being  drawn  into 
•warm  sympathy  with  the  four  friends  who  long  to  form  noble  char- 
acters. They  have  been  won  to  a  love  of  Jesus  by  attending  a 
camp-meeting  at  Chautauqua ;  but  they  find  it  so  hard  to  be  true 
to  their  new  impulses,  and  to  carry  the  spirit  of  the  Bible  into 
every-day  life,  that  the  story  of  their  struggles,  disheartening  fail-  ' 
ures  relieved  by  partial  successes,  is  very  human  and  full  of  genuine 
pathos.  It  is  good  summer  reading,  for  beguiling  away  hours,  and 
inspiring  with  generous  purposes.*' 

"Pansy's  last  book,  'The  Chautauqua  Girls  at  Home,'  is  as 
fresh  and  inspiring  as  a  fine  morning  in  June.  The  four  friends, 
Marion,  Ruth,  Flossy  and  Eurie,  are  of  genuine  flesh  and  blood, 
with  the  petty  weaknesses  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  and  the  noble  aspi- 
rations that  come  at  times  to  every  high-minded  girl.  Their  unlike- 
ness  to  each  other  in  character  and  social  position,  and  their  mutual 
helpfulness  in  all  sorts  of  difficulties,  make  a  delightful  story ;  in- 
structive as  well  as  fascinating.  One  finds  it  hard  to  lay  down  the 
book  after  beginning  the  first  chapter.  It  will  find  many  readers 
who  will  welcome  its  stimulating  power  to  high  aims  in  life,  and  to 
patience  and  hope  in  fighting  hard  battles." 

Boston:   D,  LOTHROP  &•  CO.,  Publishers. 


WIDE  AWAKE, 

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FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 
&2.00  A  YEAR.     -      -     20  CENTS  A  NUMBER. 

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AT  ANY   Tl  ME. 
J).  LOTIIROP  &   CO.,  Publishers,  Boston. 


WIDE  AWAKE  is  bright  and  fresh.  It  is  full  of  good  things  in 
print  and  pictures,  and  a  vein  of  cheery  humor  runs  through  it 
which  its  young  readers  will  find  particularly  agreeable.  The 
Magazine  is  a  thoroughly  good  and  a  thoroughly  wholesome  one. 
—WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT'S  PAPER,  The  New  York  Evening 
Post. 


Messrs.  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.,  Boston,  publish  the  best  and  most 
delightful  books  for  Home  Libraries.  Their  list  includes  every 
style  and  grade,  from  the  Large  Print  Picture  Book  for  the 
Nursery,  to  the  Student's  octavo  volume. 

CHARMING  STORIES,  BIOGRAPHY, 

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and  RELIGIOUS  WORKS. 

Their  books  being  approved  by  a  Committee  of  Eminent  [-it- 
erators, selections  may  be  made  with  the  utmost  confidence 
that  none  but  good  books  are  on  their  catalogue. —  The  Contrib- 
utor. 


POPULAR  HOOKS. 


ESTER  REID $1.50 

JULIA  REID, 1.50 

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THE  KING'S  DAUGHTER,      ....  1.50 

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HOUSEHOLD  PUZZLES,          ....  1.50 

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